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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Me and You Together, 5/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! i won’t bore u with a big long a/n but i will say thank u so so much for everyone that’s shown this fic love and been supportive to me over the writing process of this chapter, it means the world. this one has a content warning for…drumroll please…smut! enjoy u slaaaags xo

last chapter: October- The gang made plans for their first year together, Tia gave everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora had a realisation that would change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

this chapter: February- Tayce has always hated Valentine’s day. But will hatching a plan with Lawrence and spending the day with A’whora change her opinion on it this year?

***

Tayce thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that they’ve not been caught yet.

Honestly, she should’ve known how her and A’whora attempting to sneak around would go from the start; it’s not as if either of them are subtle people. Between A’whora always needing people’s eyes and attention to be on her and Tayce simply being unable not to attract attention, it’s hard for either of them to be covert in any way, shape or form.

The first time (or first three times in quick succession) back last month had been easy enough; by the time Bimini, Lawrence and Ellie had returned back to the flat from their day drinking expedition with Ellie’s friend they’d all been too drunk to see their hands in front of their faces, never mind notice that Tayce’s room smelt of sex and that A’whora’s top was on back to front. But living with four other people and trying to find a time where they’re all out of the flat at the same time is like gold dust, so a lot of the time Tayce and A’whora will disappear to one of their rooms (ten minutes apart, so as not to attract suspicion) and then have to spend the entire rendezvous talking in hushed whispers or biting down hard on their lips or whining into their pillows to make sure nobody boots down the door and demands to know what’s going on.

Still, even if it’s quiet and covert, Tayce is nothing short of addicted to this new layer of the relationship she has with A’whora. There’s something intoxicating about giving A’whora what she wants: it’s in the way her big, pleading doe-eyes flutter shut in ecstasy, the way her lips drop open from a bratty pout into a blissful gasp or a too-loud moan that makes Tayce feel like clamping a hand over her mouth. It’s surely only a matter of time before the others find out and ruin this whole thing for them so Tayce wants to make sure A’whora doesn’t blow their cover, because there’s part of her that loves keeping it all under wraps like it’s their own little secret they share.

Besides, the sight of A’whora biting down hard on her knuckles when she’s trying desperately not to make a sound is never one that Tayce is going to pass up on.

It’s the way she goes quiet when things get intense and Tayce has to draw her words out of her like she does her orgasm, because aside from the fact that she needs to know if A’whora’s enjoying everything Tayce is doing, the way she starts blushing whenever she tells her what she wants or how good something feels is sinful enough to make Tayce believe that maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad.

The juxtaposition of the devilishness A’whora manages to radiate whilst looking like and talking with the voice of an angel isn’t lost on Tayce. The way she’s so eager to please, the way she always asks if everything’s okay, the way she’ll look up from between Tayce’s legs with that ever-so-slightly deer in the headlights look with her juice smeared across her lips like gloss and wait for Tayce to tell her everything feels amazing before she’ll relax, and a mischievous grin will take hold on her face before she’ll continue pushing her increasingly closer to the edge. Tayce had always thought praise kinks were a myth but A’whora is the living Kelpie that disproves her theory. She only ever needs to tell her that she’s a good girl, or that she’s pretty, or that she’s perfect (usually with a princess tacked onto it for good measure) for A’whora to whimper and beg, greedy and impatient. The way she reacts to the praise is enough to make Tayce want to keep giving it, so she supposes the relationship is a symbiotic one.

It’s funny the way they seem to swap personalities in bed. Tayce- who usually can’t shut up or slow down if her life depended on it- likes hushed giggles, breathy gasps, biting hard on her lip to make sure she’s not too loud. She likes to draw out the foreplay and teasing until they’re both burning up and so wet they drip down their thighs and onto the sheets, and when she fucks A’whora she’s always painstaking and precise, slow and languid. A’whora, for her part, is the opposite. She moans and whines and bucks her hips in the air, always desperate for satisfaction and to satisfy Tayce in return. She knows exactly how to push Tayce to the edge and then over it and she never wastes a minute getting there, sometimes ripping two or three orgasms from her in quick succession with nothing short of relentless, smug determination. They shouldn’t work together but Jesus Christ, they do.

It’s because of all this that the way they sneak around has become a kind of foreplay for them. The trips to the smoking area on nights out just so Tayce can back A’whora against the wall and crash her lips against hers needily. The squeeze they’ll give each others’ thighs under the table if they’ve all gone somewhere for dinner together, and the twinkle in both of their eyes acting as a promise of things to come later. The text A’whora gives Tayce from the sofa opposite as they’re all sitting around watching whatever shite Tia has stuck on that simply says “i want to 👅 your 🐈 until you 💦” which makes Tayce almost choke on whatever she happens to be eating or drinking.

But she supposes the rest of her flatmates have been too wrapped up in their own feelings to even notice her and A’whora’s lack of subtlety. The end of January saw Tia finally make things official with Veronica who she’d been seeing for a few months already, so she’s been bouncing around the flat with a spring in her step and a permanent smile on her face and always humming or singing a cheerful tune under her breath. Tayce is happy for the girl, she really is, but even she has to admit the pair of them acting like little loved-up Sylvanian Family squirrels is vaguely nauseating; the way they’ll nuzzle each others’ noses while curled up together on the sofa and the way they happily belt along to Heathers while they make pancakes together at eight in the morning on a Sunday, which is never the hangover cure they seem to think it is.

In stark contrast, Ellie has been stomping through the flat for the past few weeks or so as if she’s an assassin with a bounty on Cupid. At literally any mention of love or romance she’s there with a fake retch or a huge roll of her blue eyes, talking about how she wishes every couple on earth would drop off the face of it. She has stark disregard for Tia’s happiness, preferring instead to wallow in her own misery. It’s immature and it’s petty and it’s completely ridiculous but Tayce supposes Ellie is hurt and heartbroken, and Tia and Veronica are getting the brunt of it because they’re the root cause.

If Ellie is bad then Lawrence is worse. If Ellie is pissed off then Lawrence is woeful, and she’s not much better whenever she’s forced to be around the flat’s new couple. Her usually cheerful jokes poking fun at her various flatmates are now entirely based around how single she is, all delivered as if Eeyore had a stand-up set. There’s only so many times Tayce can fake-laugh at each variation, only so much enthusiasm she can inject into the laugh she gives in response to “I’m so single I canny even get a bus to hit on me”. Combined with the constant way Crazy for You is getting blasted from behind her closed bedroom door on a loop, Lawrence has been acting like the lesbian reincarnation of Bridget Jones for entirely too long to be considered acceptable.

“Why don’t we just tell Els that Lawrence likes her?” A’whora had suggested, as they’d lain in Tayce’s bed naked apart from her duvet that was wrapped around them both and the opening drum beat to Crazy for You had cut through the wall for the third time in the past ten minutes.

(Tayce knows Lawrence had asked her not to tell A’whora about her crush on Ellie. She does feel bad for telling A’whora about her crush on Ellie. But when A’whora had asked her why she thought Lawrence had been behaving like a war-era mourning widow for the past few weeks it had just slipped out. Besides, the threat of a month without sex that Tayce had used as leverage so A’whora wouldn’t blab to Ellie about it has so far seemed to be good enough motivation. As it stands neither of them seem to be able to go three days without a shag, so she’s really hoping A’whora doesn’t open her big mouth for both their sakes.)

“It’s not that simple,” Tayce had muttered, threading some of A’whora’s long, straight hair through her fingers absent-mindedly as she spoke. “There’s feelings there, they wouldn’t be able to just fall together like we did. It’s messier when there’s crushes involved. With us it’s just good sex with a good friend, you know?”

A’whora had gone quiet as she nodded, a minute frown appearing on her face. Tayce supposes it had been as a result of the prospect of more Madonna ballads from Lawrence’s room for the foreseeable future.

Bimini, who Tayce has been the most concerned about picking up on something being different between her and A’whora, has been surprisingly and uncharacteristically imperceptive. Bimini being Bimini hasn’t let on that there’s anything different going on with them, but Tayce is sure it’s got something to do with the bashful smile they give their phone screen sometimes, or the way they seem to be at the flat with them all less and less of late, or the uni project they’re completing with their friend Asttina which seems to have been going on for about a fortnight. Whatever it is, they seem happier than usual; a little cheerful glow lighting them up from the inside out that Tayce just knows there’s a reason behind. She’ll let them tell her in their own time.

If the atmosphere in the flat had been full of mixed-up, chaotic sets of feelings before, then when it reaches Valentine’s Day it’s on another level entirely.

Tayce begins her day waking up, rubbing her eyes, and stretching as far as her bones and muscles will allow. She’s alone in bed- she and A’whora never sleep over in each others’ rooms, the overwhelming amount of suspicion it would draw the next day would be staggering- but Tayce sometimes wonders what it would be like to wake up with A’whora. Maybe she’d be curled around her, having sought her out in the night to cuddle. Maybe she talks in her sleep. Maybe she snores. Tayce doesn’t know why she’s thinking about this, or indeed why she wants to know what it would be like.

They’re just friends, after all.

She sleepily snatches up her phone from her bedside table, checks the time (10am, a decent enough lie in) and then checks her notifications. She’s got a Whatsapp message from A’whora and she ends up spluttering a laugh as she opens it. It’s a photo of her having clearly just woken up, hair all messy in its bun and bags under her brown eyes. She’s sinking into the pillow and pulling a face that gives her a double chin. She looks a state, but something about the photo makes Tayce’s heart happy. It’s the fact that A’whora- the same A’whora who took a month before she let her flatmates see her without makeup, does a full face before even going to Tesco, and fake tans twice a week- has sent her a selfie with a sleepy, bare, ridiculous face. Tayce has always felt a little like their friendship has been a series of breaking down A’whora’s walls and with this, another one has crumbled. It’s nice that she trusts Tayce enough with every little part of her, and it’s a responsibility that Tayce doesn’t take lightly.

The message that accompanies the photo says “Happy valentine’s day bestie xxx” and Tayce feels her heart flutter a bit. It should feel weird that A’whora’s acknowledging the significance of the day. It’s kind of overstepping the line they’ve drawn together, it’s sort of breaking an unspoken promise.

But regardless, Tayce doesn’t mind. She actually likes it, more than she probably should. So she taps her nails against the screen, smiling in spite of herself as her message starts to appear.

T: that selfie’s really doing it for me uno

T: got me all excited for the romantic valentine’s day sex we’re gonna be having xo

The screen tells her that A’whora’s typing, and she can feel the heat begin to pool in her stomach already at the prospect of some flirty texts to start the day off. That is until there’s a muffled drum beat and an oboe that drifts into Tayce’s consciousness through the wall, and she realises with visceral frustration that Lawrence is playing that god damn bloody fucking song again.

Tayce lifts her leg and kicks the wall that separates her room and Lawrence’s with a thud thud thud, hoping it’ll make it all stop- the soundtrack to her friend’s emotional pining doesn’t double up as a good soundtrack to dirty texting. To Tayce’s exasperation, however, her door flies open a few moments later, and she cranes her neck and buries her phone under her pillow to find that Lawrence has invited herself in.

“Did you knock?” she asks inquisitively. Tayce narrows her eyes.

“If ‘knocked’ means ‘banged on the wall to shut you up’, then yeah, I did,” Tayce deadpans. Lawrence doesn’t seem to take the hint and instead lets out a dramatic sign, flops down beside Tayce on her bed as if to fully illustrate the fact she isn’t leaving anytime soon.

“Tayyyce,” she begins, whining pitifully. Lawrence is never one to conceal how she’s feeling and always wears her heart on her sleeve, which Tayce can appreciate in a friend. If Lawrence is annoyed, she’ll tell you. If Lawrence is happy, she’ll show it. If Lawrence is pining after her best friend she’s been in love with for years, she’ll let everyone know…apart from the only girl it affects directly.

“What is it, babe?” Tayce asks sympathetically, rolling onto her side to give her friend a cuddle. She knows what the matter is, but she also knows Lawrence clearly wants to vent, so she’ll be a good friend and let her.

Lawrence huffs a sigh. “Tia’s all loved up with Veronica in the kitchen and Bimini’s probably off shagging their pal right now and Ellie’s never going to know I exist as anything other than a friend. I fuckin’ hate Valentine’s Day.”

Tayce would normally agree. Tayce usually hates it too. It’s corporate and cheap and tokenistic, as if the only ways people can show love are through red roses, chocolate or teddies. Pick one or all three, give them to the person you love the most otherwise did you ever really love them at all? Maybe she’d like it better if she had someone to spend it with, but she’s not. She’s never.

Apart from today, that is. Apart from A’whora.

“It’s bullshit,” Tayce nods, squeezing Lawrence’s side. “But hey, you’re not on your own, girl. I’ve not got anyone to spend it with either, and neither’s A’whora.”

Lawrence sticks her bottom lip out. “Yeah, but you two aren’t all sad with feelings and crushes. I mean, we all know A’whora’s not got a heart so she’s off to a flyer already.”

Tayce laughs at Lawrence’s joke even though they both know it couldn’t be less true if she tried. She pokes Lawrence’s arm, frowning and unable to stand her moping much longer. “Well, why don’t you try and make a move today? Y’know, show Ellie why you’re a good option as well.”

“A good option? Sorry, I didn’t realise I’m sat in a fridge next to a sandwich as part of a Tesco meal deal,” Lawrence rolls her eyes. Tayce nudges her with her foot to make a point.

“Fuck off. You know what I mean! Hang out with her, do something fun. Maybe dial up the flirting a bit.”

Lawrence rolls over onto her side to face her, as if to drive home the pointed stare she’s fixing her with. “Have you ever seen me trying to flirt? There’s a reason I’ve never brought a girl back here. I mean my vagina’s so out of use I think it’s closed up like a pierced ear nobody’s put an earring through in a while.”

Tayce lets out a screech, part-horrified, part-disgusted. Her stomach hurts as she tries to collect herself, and an idea forms in her mind. “You could so do it if you tried. Hey, here’s what to do, right? Tia and Veronica are going out for that big romantic beach walk Tia’s been talking our ears off about for weeks. Bimini’s missing in action, as you said, and probably will be for most of the day. And I’ll get A’whora out of the flat for a while. So that means you’ve got Ellie all to yourself, on Valentine’s day, ready to be…I don’t know, wined, dined and sixty-nined.”

It’s Lawrence’s turn to howl in disgust now, but the sparkle’s back in her eyes as she grins at Tayce. “I don’t think we’re at that stage yet, doll. But I don’t know, maybe you’re right. I mean she’s never gonna see me as anything more than a friend if I keep acting like only that, is she?”

Tayce smiles, glad to see she’s instilled some confidence in her friend. “That’s my girl!”

Lawrence claps her hands together decisively. “There we go, then. I’ll have her drippin’ like a knackered fridge in no time!”

The pair of them burst out into untethered shrieks of laughter, ones that draw footsteps from the hall and cause Tayce’s door to open again, this time to reveal both Ellie and A’whora. It looks as if the pair of them were together too, and Tayce thinks it wouldn’t be unusual if Ellie had been venting to A’whora about her own unrequited crush.

“What the hell is so funny? I’m trying to do a big emotional, dramatic monologue about my broken heart to this one but I can’t, because all we can hear is your monkey screeching through the wall,” Ellie grumps, sitting herself down at the foot of the bed.

“We were shagging. That’s just the noise I make when I come,” Lawrence deadpans. As Ellie and A’whora splutter a laugh, Tayce fixes Lawrence with an incredulous stare, one which she hopes communicates “if that was you flirting then what the fuck?”.

“G’wan, Els. Do your big monologue here,” Tayce encourages her, budging up as A’whora squashes onto the bed too even though there’s barely room for two at the best of times, never mind four. A’whora groans long-sufferingly.

“Please don’t make me sit through it again.”

Ellie turns to her friend, affronted. “Girl!”

“I’m joking, babe.”

Appeased, Ellie lets out a plaintive little sigh as she casts her gaze up to the ceiling. “I’m just fucked off. I mean I get that Tia’s happy, and I’m happy for her-”

“No you’re not,” Lawrence cuts in matter-of-factly.

“No I’m not, but that’s beside the point,” Ellie rolls with the interruption, making Tayce snort with her honesty. “I just wish they weren’t…rubbing it in my face all the time, you know?”

“They can’t rub it in your face if they don’t know you like Tia, Ellie. You can’t get annoyed at them for existing,” A’whora pulls a face, honest to a fault. It’s something else that Tayce really appreciates about her; she knows she’ll never get bullshitted by A’whora, knows she’s truthful and upfront. It’s just another part of what makes their arrangement work so well- she knows A’whora’s not exactly going to be covering up any feelings anytime soon.

Ellie continues with a huff. “I know. And I know I’m being unfair, and I know I’m being immature about it all.”

“Give yourself some credit, girl, you only just turned eighteen about five minutes ago. You’re allowed to be immature,” Tayce quips, earning a laugh from A’whora and Lawrence and a scowl from Ellie that she knows she doesn’t really mean.

“It just sucks not being able to turn my feelings off. I want to get over her, you know? It’s just hard when we live together and Veronica’s round all the time.”

There’s a lull in conversation where the girls hum in agreement and empathy. Tayce chooses this time to sneakily elbow Lawrence in her side, as if to nudge her towards spending time with Ellie.

Lawrence takes the hint. “Ellie, what’re you doing today, hen?”

Ellie looks despondently at her. “Probs greetin’ into a pint of Haagen Dazs. How?”

“Well, I’m wanting to dye my hair,” Lawrence says, and the niche context for spending time together knocks Tayce for six a little. “And although I wouldn’t trust you to keep a succulent alive, I’d trust you to do a not awful job of hairdresser duties. You wanty help me out with it?”

Tayce tries not to look at A’whora because she knows they’ll end up sharing a knowing smile that’s entirely too suspicious as Ellie’s face lights up. “If anything would cheer me up right now it’s the prospect of fucking up your hair beyond all recognition.”

“Brilliant,” Lawrence deadpans, though there’s a little smile on her lips which suggests to Tayce that Ellie could very well completely shave her completely bald then dye her scalp yellow and Lawrence would still thank her.

Tayce turns to smile at A’whora. Time to hold up her end of the deal.

“Well, I don’t much fancy staying to deal with the fallout of this inevitable disaster. You wanna go for brunch somewhere?”

A’whora’s so clearly trying to bite back her smile, make it seem more contained and controlled, but it still spreads across her face like a sunbeam and it warms Tayce’s heart like one too. “Alright. S’pose I could squeeze you into the calendar somewhere.”

As the pair of them lock eyes and Tayce struggles to suppress her own smile, the girls are interrupted by a knock on the door. Tayce shouts them in, figuring they might as well squeeze a few more people onto the bed while they’re at it and attempt some sort of world record, but it’s Tia and Veronica and they aren’t staying long judging by the fact they’ve both got their jackets on.

“Just saying goodbye before our lil’ seaside adventure!” Tia smiles, her happiness completely uncontained and radiating from her; if A’whora’s smile was a sunbeam then Tia encapsulates the energy of the whole burning star. Tayce is happy for her.

“Have fun girlies, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Tayce smiles, waggling her fingers in a wave.

“Aye, no sex on the beach!” Lawrence says, unsubtle and untactful as ever. Veronica flushes so red she borders on purple, and Ellie gives a laugh dripping in schadenfreude.

“Wind your bloody neck in, you menace,” Veronica bites back good-humouredly, the dregs of her embarrassment still colouring her cheeks. “Have you seen the weather forecast for today? It’s absolutely freezing!”

“That the only thing stopping you? Sure you wouldn’t be the only people in existence that’ve tried to shag wearing two jumpers and a parka,” Lawrence continues to joke, and by now Ellie is a collapsed heap on the bed.

Tia speaks for her girlfriend who’s still blushing fire-engine red. “Well usually, Lawrence, you wear sexy underwear for your girlfriend on Valentine’s day. Not that you’d know.”

A’whora and Ellie let out a little whoop of shock in response to the shady comment, which neither Lawrence nor Tayce join in with. Tayce deigns to give it a little smirk, but knowing how Lawrence has been feeling for the past few weeks kind of removes the humour of the comment for her.

“Here, watch it. Only I’m allowed to make jokes about how single I am,” Lawrence herself narrows her eyes in response, before smiling tightly at the loved-up pair. “Anyway, have a lovely time, you two!”

“We will!” Veronica practically squeaks in delight, flicking some of her blonde hair over her shoulders as she loops her arm through Tia’s and they leave the flat, the front door clicking behind them. There’s a silence in Tayce’s room before Lawrence speaks again.

“Smug wee gits.”

The rest of the girls dissolve into giggles, Tayce whacking Lawrence on the arm. “Shut up, bitter Betty. Go make your bad hair choices.”

“Right, let’s go!” Ellie claps excitedly before reaching out for Lawrence’s hand. She of course accepts gladly, a hint of pink blush to her cheeks as she’s dragged out of the room by her enthusiastic friend.

The moment Tayce’s door shuts A’whora shimmies up next to her side, a little twinkle in her eye that Tayce knows all too well.

“Hey you,” she smiles, throwing an arm and a leg over Tayce in a full-body hug. Tayce laughs at her clinginess, how she remembers A’whora describing herself as “not much of a huggy person” when they first met in freshers’ week and now she’s the human embodiment of a baby koala.

“Stop flirting, God,” Tayce shoots back playfully, watching the affronted expression take hold on A’whora’s face for only a second before pulling her in for a kiss that A’whora instantly turns up the heat of. Her lips are soft but her kiss is full of a hunger that makes something inside Tayce tighten up, and there’s something about the way A’whora clearly wants her that leaves her feeling ever-so-slightly breathless.

“Right, that’s enough of that,” Tayce jokes as she pulls away, and A’whora’s plaintive pout is almost motivation enough to keep going. But Tayce has made a promise to Lawrence, so she doubles down. “C’mon, get ready. And wear something classy as well, we ain’t going to some scaff caff we could spend any old hungover morning in.”

“Wait, were you serious about brunch?” A’whora’s expression changes, her smile becoming almost shy. It’s ever-so-slightly adorable and completely endearing.

“Yeah, girl! I said to Lawrence I’d take you out so that her and Ellie can have some alone time. Get your shit sorted,” Tayce explains.

There’s shutters that go down behind A’whora’s eyes suddenly, and Tayce narrows her eyes, confused. “Unless you’re not keen?”

“No, of course I’m keen!” A’whora brightens up a little, smiles at Tayce mischievously. “If you’re taking me out, though, you’re paying.”

Tayce blurts out a laugh. “Fuck off! Fine, I’ll pay today. Just means you have to pay next time.”

“Oh there’s a next time, is there?”

A’whora’s batting her lashes at her flirtatiously, but her words have made Tayce’s heart do a little somersault. She supposes what they’re doing is a little bit like a date, and that’s not what their relationship is. They used to hang out like that, though, used to do things just the pair of them like go to the library and pretend to do work, go for lunch at Nandos, watch films together curled up in bed. In a way, Tayce supposes nothing has changed. It would be weird to not hang out just the two of them just because they’ve started hooking up.

So Tayce just returns the smile, casual and chill because that’s what they’ve agreed to be. “I gotta get paid back somehow, don’t I?”

“Could pay you back in other ways,” A’whora winks, and Tayce splutters in a giggle.

“Shut your whore mouth or we’ll never bloody leave the flat.”

They get ready after that, anticipative energy radiating through the wall of A’whora’s room. Tayce feels almost a little nervous. She doesn’t know why. It’s just a brunch, and it’s just A’whora. If she thinks about it, though, A’whora’s never been just A’whora. Tayce has always found an element of joy in spending time with her that she hasn’t ever felt with the others. The spark that goes off in her heart whenever A’whora laughs at one of her jokes, the comfort she takes in just being in the same room as her. The way Tayce has always looked forward to the time they get to spend alone together and the way that, since they started whatever the hell this is, that feeling has only intensified.

It feels more intense now than it ever has before, though. Maybe because it’s a little bit like a date. Maybe because it’s exactly like a date. Maybe because Tayce shouldn’t be this happy about that fact. Maybe the way she used to fancy A’whora- the way she used to just want to kiss her and get her in her bed- has evolved since they started this whole friends-with-benefits situation.

She takes a little deep breath, frowning at herself as she does her lipstick in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, girl,” she mutters under her breath; because really, what the hell kind of levels of freaked out would A’whora be if Tayce were to show or to tell her any of this? They’re just friends. Friends that hook up. Nothing more than that, and Tayce can’t let herself hope that hard either.

A’whora knocks on Tayce’s door just as she’s securing two gold hoops into her ears. She’s taken the wear something classy brief as seriously as Tayce knew she would, and she’s dressed in a short, black leather skirt and a black and white tailored shirt; one colour on each side, separated by buttons down the middle. Every little detail and accessory has been as thought out as an outfit from a fashion student could be: a pearl choker around her neck and a pearl headband through her intricately curled hair, simple silver earrings and a pink faux fur coat and the black Michael Kors bag that Tayce knows has been her pride and joy since she got it for Christmas. Her legs are bare and she’s wearing high black stilettos which make her legs look entirely too good, and in turn fill Tayce’s head with memories that she needs to push out of her head or else the outfit A’whora’s spent so long putting together is going to end up on the floor.

“Love this,” Tayce points at her approvingly, and A’whora’s smile is a little bashful as she gives a twirl. “You look stunning. I mean, you’ll be freezing. But you’ll be stunning and freezing.”

“Just means you can warm me up later,” A’whora winks at her, and Tayce hides a giggle behind her hand. She never used to get shy if a girl flirted with her, especially not one with the lack of flirting abilities that A’whora possesses. She could always give as good as she got, she still can.

Tayce doesn’t know, though. Something about the past month with A’whora has changed her a little now that their relationship is inherently more intimate. Tayce can drop the cool, calm and collected persona she always used to wear to get girls into bed. Instead she’s allowed herself to be a little more goofy, a little more wild and animated and energised. A little more herself.

“You look stunning too, though,” A’whora adds with sincerity, the little grin on her face only making matters worse. Tayce has decided on a white shirt dress she’s cinched in at the waist with a huge belt, and paired it with thigh high vinyl boots. It’s one of those outfits she owns which is low effort but high payoff, especially when A’whora’s got a little twinkle in her eye like that.

Tayce snorts, grabs her bag from the side of her bed and whacks A’whora with it. “Stop trying to flatter me into bed and let’s go, gorgeous.”

They leave the flat with a shout of goodbye to Ellie and Lawrence, but judging from the way the door’s open and the showerhead’s running and both girls are yelping and laughing in the midst of some water fight, they aren’t able to hear it. Tayce leads A’whora through the cobbled streets and winding, dipping roads of the city as she talks a mile-a-minute about where they’re going and how she hopes they’ll have a free table. She almost wants to reach out and take A’whora’s hand, entwine their fingers together like another piece of the puzzle they share clicking into place. She doesn’t, but she wants to.

She’s sure the feeling will pass, anyway.

She’s sure it’s normal for her heart to swell as much as it’s currently doing as she walks beside A’whora, for it to flutter like a moth to a light whenever she smiles and flashes her teeth. A’whora is beautiful, and Tayce is sure that even friends that didn’t fuck would get tongue-tied if one of them was as stunning as she is.

To her delight, the brunch spot she’d had in mind has a table free for them; one beside the feature wall of plastic pink, blue and yellow flowers which Tayce already knows A’whora will be asking to take her photo in front of. She’s never actually been here before but she’s seen pictures on Instagram of the pink painted walls and pastel blue chairs and the white marble tabletops with shiny gold cutlery on top. She’s eyed up the breakfasts; avocado sourdough, eggs with golden yolks, and something which they’ve branded ‘donut French toast’ which A’whora is currently telling Tayce how excited she is to order, her eyes sparkling. If this was a date, it would be the perfect venue.

It’s just a pity that it isn’t.

They order two mimosas with their breakfasts- because fuck it, it’s Valentine’s day, and Tayce wants to celebrate the fact she’s got someone to spend it with even if it is just a friend- and the two of them fall into easy chat about all kinds of topics; uni, their courses, life at home in Wales and Worksop. Dating somebody new comes with stilted conversations, awkward pauses, the potential to cover a touchy subject. With A’whora there’s none of that. They already know each other inside out so they don’t have anything to re-learn. Tayce tells A’whora stories about Cara and Cheryl and understands when A’whora doesn’t join in with stories about her own friends from home. Instead, A’whora brings up their flatmates.

“I get really existential about it all. Y’know, fate and stuff,” A’whora frowns across the table at her mid-conversation. “Like, what are the odds the five strangers I’d live with in first year would be people I all get on with and genuinely like? And most of them would become my best friends in the world. You know?”

Tayce nods understandingly. “No, I get that. And like, fate putting Ellie and Lawrence in the same flat when they’d known each other for that long. And Tia and Bimini on the same train up when they moved in. What a small world?”

“Everything happens for a reason,” A’whora says quietly, shaken out of her small reverie by the plate of sugar-covered toast that’s being placed in front of her and thanking the waitress politely. Tayce can’t help but splutter a laugh when they’re left alone together again, looking at how A’whora’s eyes have lit up at the food in front of her.

“You’re like a child! An actual child. Swear to God, girl, you’ve got the same eating habits as Will Ferrel in Elf.”

A’whora cackles a laugh opposite her. Tayce wonders why it gives her such a sense of pride when A’whora laughs at something she says. Well, no- she knows exactly why, and the reason makes her stomach flip over like clothes in a tumble drier. She can’t think too much about that, though, so she thinks of something else quickly to take her mind off it.

“Right. I’ve got a fun game. First impressions of the five of us, go,” Tayce says, the idea coming to her as a result of what A’whora’s said. In response A’whora’s eyebrows shoot up, a scheming smile on her face as she tilts her head to consider her response.

“Ooh, well…easiest one is Bimini, because obviously I loved them from the get go.”

“How could you not?” Tayce agrees, spearing a strawberry from the pancakes she’s ordered herself.

“They just had this calm, kind aura that just immediately made me feel loads better about being away from home,” A’whora continues, nodding earnestly. “Same with Lawrence, although she was different. I actually thought she was batshit crazy. Or like, an alien, because no one human could be that funny.”

Snorting, Tayce points a finger at A’whora in recognition. “Jesus, that’s so true! I mean I’ve told you the story of when I first got to the flat? I actually thought she might’ve been on something. But that’s just who she is; when she’s up she’s up and when she’s down she’s down.”

There’s a pause as A’whora eats some more of her French toast, her gaze fixing on the wall as she thinks. “Ellie was the opposite. I didn’t know what to make of her at first. She was dead quiet and I think my back was up because I hated her dress sense.”

Tayce splutters. “Of course it was.”

“But now, like…God, don’t you miss the days when Ellie was quiet?” A’whora laughs affectionately. “I don’t know what I’d do without her, though.”

“She seemed a little more reserved than the others at first. But then that comes back to what you were saying about fate, because Lawrence definitely helped bring her out of her shell a bit.”

A’whora nods as she considers Tayce’s words, then her face breaks into a smile and she hides a guilty laugh behind her hands. “Tia…I thought I would not get on with at all.”

Tayce sips her drink and shrugs. “Well, you didn’t get on with her at first.”

“True. She’s just not somebody I would’ve ever hung out with before. I mean she’s told me before she thinks I would’ve bullied her in school, which, to be fair, I might’ve done,” A’whora pulls a guilty face. “But I guess being somehow the only two bitches with the ability to clean the flat is one hell of a bonding opportunity.”

Tayce feels her jaw drop open, offended. “Hey! I clean the flat!”

A’whora smirks. “Oh what, you pour undiluted Zoflora into the overflowing bin bag so it doesn’t smell, instead of actually…I don’t know, taking the bin out? My mistake, sorry. You’re actually the second coming of Mrs Hinch.”

The pair of them giggle together and Tayce sticks out her tongue in response. She takes a bite of her own breakfast before thinking about the girl they’re considering.

“I thought Tia was nice. Fun. I never saw her becoming my bestie or anything, but you know,” Tayce shrugs.

“No, that title was reserved for me,” A’whora smiles smugly. Tayce decides to have a bit of fun with her, tilts her head and narrows her eyes a little.

“You mean Bimini?”

“Fuck off,” A’whora fires back instantly, and Tayce throws her head back in a laugh. The laughter dies down as both girls eat some more of their food, until Tayce frowns at A’whora suddenly.

“You never said me.”

“Oh!” A’whora realises. Tayce thinks for a second that she could be blushing, but the sun has begun to appear behind the clouds and the light is shining through the glass windows and hitting the pink walls. It could just be that.

She looks gorgeous for it regardless.

“Do you want me to go first?” Tayce smirks, breaking out into a laugh as A’whora gives her an unimpressed glare.

“No, because I already know you’re gonna tell me you thought I was a total weirdo.”

“Not true! I actually thought you were a lot like me. Scared, nervous, a bit emotional. Well,” Tayce reaches across the table and pokes her playfully. “Maybe a bit more emotional than I was, but you know.”

A’whora rolls her eyes. “Good.”

“But seriously, I thought we were actually quite similar, y’know, underneath it all,” Tayce says, her voice growing a little quiet as she thinks. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The first maybe…month of uni. Everyone’s figuring shit out and either building new facades or letting their old ones from school or their hometowns drop. It’s rare you find someone who’s just real from the get-go.”

A’whora nods. “I think that was another reason why I was so scared. Because I was one of the bitches in school, and coming here I didn’t have those toxic friendships around me anymore. And you coming into my room on that first day was like…the first time in a while someone had actually been nice? And kind? So I guess I didn’t have much of a choice to just be myself. But also there was a part of me that didn’t really know what that looked like. You know?”

The conversation’s taken a deep turn, and Tayce doesn’t really know why. It’s not a result of one singular mimosa, she knows that much. But she’s glad A’whora feels like she’s able to talk like this with her. She knows it’s not always easy for her to open up to her friends, she knows she’s been burned in the past.

So Tayce reaches out across the table and takes her hand. “Well, to me…Aurora is a caring, kind, loyal friend. She has the biggest heart and all this love to give to so many people. She’s a shady hound, but we all love her for it. And all her friends treasure her because they know how lucky they are to have her in their lives.”

Tayce can tell A’whora’s trying to stop herself from smiling, and her gaze drops down to the table bashfully as she tucks her hair behind her ears. It’s almost like she’s embarrassed, self-conscious of the way all the diamonds of her personality have been excavated and laid bare. For a second Tayce feels a flush hit her face, wondering if she’s overstepped a mark, but then A’whora’s eyes lock onto hers and she’s smiling gratefully.

“Thanks, Tayce.”

Tayce would love to take her other hand. Tayce would love to lean over the table and kiss her in front of everyone else in the room. Tayce would love to tell A’whora everything she’s feeling, all these little moments and emotions illustrating a bigger picture that Tayce just wants her to colour in.

But they’re friends. So Tayce gives A’whora’s hand one last squeeze and winks at her as she draws her hand away.

“You’re welcome. Slag.”

And then they’re smiling at each other, and the conversation moves on. A’whora never did say what her first impressions of Tayce were, and it’s too late to ask her again. Tayce supposes it doesn’t really matter all that much. She’s more interested in how A’whora feels about her now. For example- does she feel the same way Tayce is feeling? Is she sitting opposite her trying to stop her heart jumping every time she smiles, trying to stop the butterflies fluttering in her stomach? Tayce is an upfront, honest girl. She’s blunt, and normally she’d ask.

But this situation isn’t normal, and something’s stopping her. Tayce always used to be the girl in primary school who’d play with the boys, run around the playground roaring until her lungs were hoarse pretending to be a tiger or a dragon, roll across the dusty tarmac getting her knees scraped and dirty. One thing she always, always used to pride herself on was her fearlessness. She’d puff up her chest before the flu vaccines, the dentist, any remotely fearful situation and hit out with “I’m not scared of anything”.

Why is she so scared now? Because she’s older, and life’s big worries are no longer a needle or a tiny mirror in her mouth. She’s not afraid of anything physical, things she can see; it’s the things she doesn’t know, the things she can’t work out that scare her so much. The thought of telling A’whora that what she feels for her might not be strictly friendship any longer gives her an adrenaline rush worse than any rollercoaster she’s been on, and it’s not entirely a good kind either.

The waitress appears to clear their plates and Tayce slaps her card down against the little metal tray ready to be tapped against the reader to pay the bill, just like she’d promised. It’s funny, though, that A’whora’s lost all her gumption now the time has actually come for Tayce to follow through on her promise, and as the waitress reappears A’whora is protesting wildly.

“You honestly don’t have to pay. I was just joking!”

Tayce laughs incredulously. “Oh that was a joke, was it? Seemed like a legally binding contract when we were at the flat!”

“Shut up, hound,” A’whora sticks her tongue between her teeth as she smiles cheekily.

The waitress hands her card back to Tayce and she keeps talking as she puts it away in her purse. “Well, don’t feel bad. As I said, the next one’s on you.”

As A’whora raises her eyebrows, the waitress fixes them with a cheery smile. “Thanks so much for popping in today, ladies, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day! Is this your first one together?”

Tayce chokes a little on nothing, tries to stop her eyes from flying wide open. She doesn’t dare meet A’whora’s eye as she shakes her head. “No, uh, we’re-”

“Aw, I knew it couldn’t have been your first, I could totally tell you’d been together way longer! Well may I say, you make a lovely couple,” she continues breezily, Tayce finally meeting A’whora’s gaze and trying not to laugh. The waitress thanks them once more before disappearing, and the two girls are left in a small bubble of silence before A’whora releases her giggles, Tayce putting her hands up to her burning hot cheeks.

“Jesus, Mary and Nora, what the hell was that? The Spanish Inquisition?” Tayce babbles, and A’whora doubles over opposite her.

“Well it is Valentine’s day, Tayce. It’s not that wild to assume two good-looking girls like us with such obvious chemistry are head-over-heels in love with each other,” A’whora winks. Tayce feels her heart do a backflip at the mention of that word, and she’s got about a split-second to cover up the fact her whole body’s been rocked by a ten on the richter scale.

Just continue the joke.

“Oh, yeah. Long-term relationship, married, house, kids. The babas.”

A’whora splutters a laugh, gestures around her. “Except we don’t know where the little shits are!”

The two of them are in fits again, and for a moment Tayce could pretend that it is all real, that maybe in a different world this is a date, and they are together, and everything’s as simple as it was when she was little and not even scared of the dark.

They stumble back to the flat together all fizzy with anticipation, drunk off of one mimosa each and sheer excitable lust. The pair of them keep the joke going all the way home- they have a semi-detached house in the suburbs, their children are named Tarquin and Edith and they attend private school and go to hockey and rugby clubs, they have a live-in cleaner, they do their weekly shop at Waitrose- both of them making the story more fantastical and ridiculous with every new addition that by the time they arrive back at the flat Tayce’s stomach hurts from laughing and A’whora’s bottom lashes are smudged with mascara from her own tears of mirth.

Tayce shushes her as she turns the key in the lock of their front door, hiding her own giggles and pressing a finger to A’whora’s lips playfully. A’whora responds by opening her mouth and snapping like a crocodile, only serving to set Tayce off again as she takes her hand and opens the door, sneaking through it comically like a Scooby Doo character as they hang up their coats in the hall. Luckily, though, they don’t even need to be quiet. There’s a blast of a hairdryer from Ellie’s room which mingles with the sounds of Katy Perry behind the door, and two sets of screeching laughs that cut through the combination. Maybe Tayce and Lawrence’s plan is actually working.

Tayce feels a familiar flutter in her stomach as she pulls A’whora into her room, her anticipation building. When she closes the door she whips round to find A’whora has already dumped her bag on Tayce’s floor and is sitting on the edge of Tayce’s bed, frantically trying to unbuckle her heels. They don’t even need to discuss what’s to come. They both know it’s all the other has been able to think about all morning.

Tayce unzips her boots and sits beside A’whora, resting a hand on her bare thigh. She traces her fingers over her skin gently and presses a kiss against her neck, her heart thumping as she hears A’whora sigh gently in response.

Tayce brings her lips up against her ear as she whispers. “I think you should keep them on.”

“Fuck,” A’whora hisses, her reaction so visceral despite Tayce not really having done anything at all yet.

True to form, A’whora swivels her head around to meet Tayce’s, cups her jaw and brings their lips together in a kiss that’s eager and frantic. She can hear her breathing- heavy and laboured and shuddery as her hands push into her hair, her fingers wrapping around little sections and pulling gently in a way that makes Tayce pull back to hiss through her teeth, dig her nails into A’whora’s inner thigh in stark contrast to the way she’s been gently teasing her.

“Behave,” Tayce warns.

“You know I can’t,” A’whora murmurs, cocking an eyebrow in response. She’s got Tayce’s dark lipstick painting her own lips now and it looks too good, makes Tayce squeeze her thighs together when she thinks about the lipstick marks she wants to leave all over her bare skin.

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t behave, princess,” Tayce responds, inching her hand up her thigh and stopping just short of where she knows A’whora wants her to. She wants it too, though. She wants to brush her fingers over the material of her underwear, feel how wet she probably already is. But not giving A’whora what she wants is just as fun as satisfying her, if only to see her being reduced to liquid form in front of her, full of frustration.

“Please, Tayce,” A’whora pulls her in again, pressing kisses to her lips between snatches of sentences. “Want it so much, fuck.”

“Already? So impatient,” Tayce runs her thumb over her soft skin again. She’s burning up too but she’s not going to lose her own composure, not when the payoff of staying in control is so good. “You gonna be good for me, angel?”

“Mm-hm,” A’whora pouts against her lips. Tayce pulls away and the sight of A’whora’s half-lidded eyes with her pupils blown from lust isn’t helping her keep a handle on the situation at all.

She gently pushes A’whora back against the mattress, straddles her whilst unbuttoning her shirt and punctuating each button with a featherlight kiss, which she knows is driving A’whora out of her mind if the way she’s squirming underneath Tayce is anything to go by. A’whora’s scrabbling at the buttons on Tayce’s dress but she doesn’t have the patience or presence of mind that she does, and Tayce almost wants to giggle at the way she’s only done two buttons by the time Tayce has got her out of her shirt.

“Fuck’s sake, why did we both choose to wear things with so many fucking buttons,” A’whora growls quietly in frustration. Before Tayce knows what’s happening, A’whora has grabbed each seam and pulled, ripping the buttons of her dress off to expose Tayce in her own bra with the criss-cross straps at the back.

A’whora’s staring at her slack-jawed and Tayce can only blink at her in response. She can’t decide if A’whora ruining her dress has pissed her off or turned her on.

It’s definitely turned her on.

“Oh, you’re in a whole world of trouble for that, missy,” she narrows her eyes, pulling the rest of her dress off before moving so she can tug down A’whora’s skirt. She’s left in a matching set of red lace which she looks so sinful in that Tayce’s brain hotwires. Judging from the way A’whora’s hips are bucking against thin air, though, she’s not the only one that’s wound up.

“Jesus, Rory, lie still,” Tayce insists through a laugh. “I’m not about to try and eat you out and get a bloody pelvic bone to the face!”

A’whora whines, and Tayce watches her chest rise and fall rapidly as she stares up to the ceiling in a petulant huff. Her pout cracks, though, when Tayce spreads her legs and kneels between them, replacing her fingers with her lips as she kisses all the way up the inside of her thighs. The way A’whora huffs in frustration and grips the duvet with white knuckles makes Tayce’s core throb, and the need to touch herself is clouding her thoughts like smoke.

She already feels like she’s on fire, so she supposes it’s apt.

So Tayce decides to have a little fun, pulls back from A’whora and sits on her heels as she lets a hand flutter across her stomach and under the waistband of her underwear. She’s not going to take it too far- she’s only trying to teach A’whora a lesson- but as she brushes her fingers over her clit Tayce can’t help but give a little gasp, the satisfaction flooding through her.

The way A’whora flinches in horror and disappointment as she sits up and realises what’s happening makes Tayce feel momentarily sorry for her.

“Tayce!” she whines pitifully. “Fuck off, that’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair, princess,” Tayce smirks, resting her other hand on her thigh.

“Oh my God, you’re such a bitch,” A’whora pouts at her. She knows A’whora could very easily start touching herself too, but Tayce knows she won’t. Tayce knows she only wants her, and that thought is so intoxicating that it knocks her for six a little, turning up the heat from a simmer to boiling point.

“If you want something from me, you’d better start being nicer.”

A’whora sits up and takes Tayce by the hand, pulls her into a kiss that’s so intense and full of lust it almost topples her over. When she pulls back her eyes are so big and pleading that Tayce feels bad for ever teasing her in the first place. “Please, Tayce. You know I’ll be good for you.”

Tayce cocks an eyebrow at her, but she moves her hand and rests it against A’whora’s other thigh anyway. “That’s the best begging you can manage, is it?”

A’whora smirks. “I’m not used to begging, I usually don’t have much of a problem getting what I want.”

Tayce shakes her head, mocking her as she gently pushes her back against the sheets again. “Such a spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat, though,” A’whora grins smugly, cutting herself off with a gasp as Tayce hooks her fingers over the waistband of her underwear and tugs it off.

Tayce knows she’s going to eat her out but seeing how wet A’whora is makes her consider fucking her with her fingers. It’s a tantalising thought; the way A’whora always has to clamp a hand over her mouth to shut herself up because her moans get too loud, the complete lack of self-control she has when she rides Tayce’s fingers and the way she’ll guide them into her mouth and suck her own juice off them afterwards- Jesus fucking Christ. Tayce needs some sort of release soon or she’s going to be too overwhelmed to speak.

She wants to hear A’whora beg just a little bit more, though. Wants to feel her squirm and taste her on her tongue and trace patterns over her clit that make her whimper and tremble. So she kisses up her thighs again but this time she doesn’t waste any time in brushing over her clit with her tongue, the broken whine A’whora gives at the contact sounding completely illegal. A’whora pushes a hand into Tayce’s hair needily, and Tayce can hear her breathing coming in short gasps as she licks over her slit, swirls her tongue over her clit in a way she knows is good but isn’t what A’whora wants. Tayce is being deliberately slow and lazy, everything A’whora doesn’t need.

“Tayce, please,” A’whora pleads. Tayce kisses against her, then makes a big show of licking A’whora’s juice off her lips. From the way A’whora squeezes her eyes shut at the sight, it’s had the desired reaction.

“What is it, baby?” she murmurs lightly. A’whora gives a broken sob, thuds her head back against the pillow.

“Please, fucking…I need to come, I’m gonna fucking die if I don’t.”

Tayce can’t help but splutter a laugh, one which makes A’whora narrow her eyes at her. She supposes she’s had her fun.

“God, well we can’t have that on the post-mortem, can we?” she deadpans, before dipping her head back between A’whora’s legs and running her tongue over her clit like she’d done before, only this time she allows herself to be a little more messy and unrestrained. She’s rewarded by the little gasps A’whora gives, the whining and the moaning that’s getting more and more frequent with every flick of her tongue.

Tayce pulls away a little, brings her head up to look at A’whora. She’s got one hand in the cup of her bra and the other limp by her side, her chest gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Her eyes are closed and her cheeks are red and her lips have dropped open, her breathing heavy and rapid.

A’whora’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and fuck, Tayce is so screwed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” she says without thinking. She doesn’t know if she imagines it, but she swears A’whora’s cheeks grow redder.

“Does it feel good?” Tayce follows up her words, asks what she’d meant to ask in the first place.

A’whora bites her lip and nods her head. “Yeah.”

“You like it?”

“Fuck, yes,” A’whora squirms against the sheets, her frustration starting to show.

“Tell me how much.”

“Tayce, please-”

“Come on, princess. You’re being such a good girl using your words,” Tayce purrs, knowing that the praise will get a reaction out of her.

It does.

“Fuck, feels so good Tayce, so, so, fucking good…please don’t stop, please,” A’whora sighs out, then instantly cuts herself off with a cry as Tayce swipes her tongue over her clit again, gives her what she wants.

“Such a good angel baby,” Tayce murmurs against her, tracing over A’whora’s clit in circles and listening to her whimpers get more and more muffled as she bites down on her lip to shut herself up. She’s so desperate that she’s practically riding Tayce’s face at this point and it’s so hot that Tayce has to move a hand between her own legs, grinding against it as she licks A’whora again and again and surely she must be so close to the edge that-

Knock-knock-knock.

Tayce launches her head back from between A’whora’s legs so fast she thinks she’s given herself whiplash. When she locks eyes with A’whora her eyes are wide open too, the pair of them unable to do anything but look at each other, frozen in panic.

When Ellie’s voice comes, Tayce swears she’s never been closer to committing homicide. “Tayce, A’whora! We did Lawrence’s hair, you should see it!”

“Leave it, don’t answer,” A’whora hisses frantically at her. Tayce wouldn’t even be able to reply if she wanted to, the way the blood is racing in her veins and roaring in her ears rendering her motionless.

“We know you’re in, your coats are in the hall!” Lawrence’s voice comes, louder and with a hint of accusation to it.

Shit.

Tayce launches herself off the bed and throws A’whora’s clothes at her frantically as she shouts back. “Just…give us one minute!”

“The fuck are you doing in there that you need a minute?”

Tayce ignores her, trying to calmly turn her dress the right way round but it’s so inside out and jumbled up that it’s rendering the process a lot trickier than she needs it to be right now. A’whora’s in a worse situation, though- she’s got every button on her shirt to button up, and if she wasn’t able to unbutton Tayce’s shirt when she was horny she’s sure as hell unable to button her own up under pressure.

“Where the fuck is my thong? Where did you put it?” A’whora hisses at her, scrambling at the duvet in desperation. Tayce’s eyes dart round her floor, cursing herself for not having an immaculately tidy room like A’whora’s. With a sigh of relief she finds it sitting on top of a floordrobe pile and she snatches it up and throws it to A’whora quickly. She turns her attention back to her dress and can almost feel a stress headache growing at her temples. Why won’t the fucking thing turn the right way-

“Have we to stand out here all day like a pair of lemons?”

“Give us a bloody minute, Jesus!” Tayce yells back, feeling like punching the air as she finally sorts her dress out. Her blood runs cold, however, as she makes to tug it over her head and Lawrence’s voice comes again.

“For fuck’s sake, girls, I’m sure it’s not that bad, we’ve seen each other in worse states.”

The doorhandle moves and A’whora and Tayce both yell in tandem. “Nonononono!”

The door bursts open, Tayce is standing holding her unbuttoned dress in her bra and pants, A’whora’s on the bed in her thong and half a buttoned up shirt, and there’s Ellie and Lawrence in the doorway with their eyes wide and jaws slack. Lawrence, in all her freshly lilac-dyed glory, is the first to turn around, pushing against Ellie frantically as she tries to exit the room as quickly as she came in. As she’s leaving, Tayce hears the start of her sentence.

“What possible heterosexual explanation could there fuckin’ be-”

Tayce can only look at A’whora, whose head is in her hands in embarrassment. Her heart goes out to her and she crosses the room and sits beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her knee to comfort her.

“Well. They know.”

“And so will the whole flat in about five minutes’ time,” A’whora deadpans into her hands. When she pulls her head back her face is beetroot red, and even though Tayce is embarrassed too she can’t help but laugh at the state her friend is in.

“Fuck’s sake,” Tayce shakes her head as she giggles, resigned to the fact their secret is out. There’s a pause of silence before A’whora frowns.

“I’m sorry.”

Tayce frowns back at her affectionately. “What’re you apologising for! It’s not like it was either of our faults.”

There’s a silence again in which A’whora brings her knees up to her chest and hugs them.

“Do you still want to…you know. Do you still want to keep doing all this? Now they know.”

Tayce nods quickly. A thought occurs to her and she frowns. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No! No, I still do,” A’whora insists, a shy smile growing on her face that lifts Tayce’s hopes a bit.

Tayce pokes A’whora’s arm, slyly grins in realisation. “Well. Guess if the whole flat knows then there’s no real reason to be quiet from now on, is there?”

When A’whora meets her eyes there’s a spark between them, and when they fall against the mattress together in a kiss then Tayce thinks maybe the others knowing about the pair of them won’t matter a single bit.

As long as they get to keep doing this together.

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1d20ocs · 5 years ago

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Homebrew: the Furmulus race [WIP v1.0]

Alice blinked at the white rabbit, and the rabbit blinked back.

Well, no: Alice had seen rabbits before, and this wasn’t much of a rabbit at all. Rabbits were about four feet shorter and didn’t have any thumbs; they certainly didn’t wear frilly dresses like this rabbit-girl did. Rabbits also didn’t tend to hop out from nowhere, get right in a person’s face, and ask who that person was in plain Sylvan. Some fey might do that, but the fey Alice had seen before looked more like butterflies than bunnies.

“I’m a cat person, actually.” Alice answered, using humor to mask her surprise.

The rabbit-girl frowned at that. Her humanoid nose twitched as she looked Alice up and down. “No you’re not.”

“But I am.” came a voice from above.

Only a bit more beastly than a humanoid wearing costume ears and a tail, the furmuli are an animal-like culture of people native to the Feywild. They’re thought to have been created by a more powerful version of the Awaken spell, though they can’t make regular beasts into more furmuli, the original method and the knowledge of who had originally done it now lost to time.

On the shorter side and positively pastel, most every furmulus is friendly and personable, able to get along with all but the most evil of people. They’re simple creatures, caring more than careful, who work better working for someone else than being left unsupervised. Even so, families of them might be found off the beaten path nearly anywhere, perfectly happy with or without visitors.

Caution: they might follow you home.

Soft and Fluffy (Physical Description)

Furmuli all have very pale skin, and their eyes are never a dark color either; both are almost always warm hues between pink and yellow, though the eyes sometimes range toward blue. Oddly-shaped pupils aren't uncommon, though they're not common either. Their fur and hair are all the same thing, only a shade at most off from white; they'll never call themselves just white, though, meaning a furmulus colored the palest of lavenders would think of themselves as very purple.

All furmuli have animal-like ears and tails; what animal they resemble varies from person to person. Though the ears and tails always resemble a preexisting animal - typically some at least semi-domesticated land mammal - rather than being a shape all their own, the ears and tail do not necessarily match. The ears grow up from where most humanoids have their ears, sticking out of the tops of their heads from the sides, while the tail grows from the tailbone.

Every furmulus has black eyebrows and whiskers, the latter of which form a small number of lines across their cheeks, close to the skin and so not as useful as a typical beast's whiskers. They can’t grow facial hair over those areas, though mustaches and goatees can grow even on some women. Furmuli are furry practically from birth, with puberty not making them any hairier. They grow whitish fur over their chests, backs, and limbs; body shaving is very uncommon, with only the head (including the ears) and tail typically being styled by even the most fashion-conscious furmuli. Because whiskers are sensitive, cutting them is taboo and they are rarely touched outside of grooming.

Furmuli have rounded features, with no real sharp ends or edges, going from baby-faced to wrinkled over the course of their lives. They dress mostly in whites, reds, and golds, and most enjoy wearing complex frills and designs. They normally choose to dress like children regardless of their age, though they otherwise put an effort in to clothe themselves to match the cultures around them.

Domesticated (Personality)

Furmuli typically refer to themselves as animals (saying "that cat" instead of "that furmulus with cat-like ears"), and take to creative combinations of words to refer to their own combinations (a "cabbit" for cat-like ears and a rabbit-like tail, or vice versa). They might say they’re “furmuluses”, or otherwise play fast and loose with the intricacies of language, with a fondness for combining words in odd ways or simply inventing new ones and hoping those around them can follow along. Other furmuli always keep up with ease, so they don’t realize they’re doing it even when other races ask them to stop.

Family and familial love are the most important things to a furmulus, who would do anything to make their loved ones happy. They consider friendship or purely romantic love to be weaker forms of familial love, and would express any strong love in terms of family. They think of spouses the same as best friends or blood brothers, for example, with the romance between them being a personal matter.

Being native to the areas that put 'wild' in the Feywild, Furmuli have a naturalistic understanding of the world around them. Rather than worshipping any specific gods, they consider concepts themselves to have power; a furmulus might ask Trickery itself for help with a prank, or will Life to help heal an injury. Though they have nothing against cultures that speak to their concepts through entities, what deity or archfey chooses to reply to their requests isn't something most furmulus would think much about when using divine magic. It’s very possible that some patron deity, perhaps whoever made them to begin with, is looking out for their oblivious child race.

Although most furmuli would rather run away than face conflict, being cornered or witnessing others cornered will convince most furmulus to fight. They lack any beastly means of doing damage, but would do their best to end a battle with at least their words; they would rather resort to biting than give up and let someone they care about be hurt, but would really rather do neither. A furmulus could be tricked into needless violence or into letting something bad happen by inaction, but would be unhappy to find out they had done harm.

Sylvanian Families (Culture)

Furmulus culture is extremely collectivist; the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. They do not normally differentiate between different types of ones, and would be baffled or even offended by cultures where there are common people suffering while a small percent prosper. The ideal for the furmuli is a society with minimal internal conflict and maximum happiness, rather than a society with the most wealth or power.

Their communities are usually made up of a few clusters of families. They're usually governed by an individual or a small group, who are expected to make decisions themselves when it would be too tedious for everyone to vote on it. What their ruling class is called, and the other superficial elements of their society, depend on what other cultures they know of; those in the Feywild parody a court with a king or queen, though they’re just as likely to call that same leader a mayor or captain. Whatever words they use, their lives are filled with sharing, making sure everyone has enough of what its members can hunt, gather, or otherwise create from available materials.

Furmuli will farm or mine if living in a place with preexisting farmlands or mines, but will not cause large-scale change on their own. Whether natural or made by other races, furmuli take what they are given and don't fix what isn't broken, living in manmade structures and working in large industries among other races, or living outdoors and working with whatever resources they can survive on in their own corner of the world. Furmuli are very accepting of any outside influence or internal new ideas, not scrutinizing unless something contradicts their core racial values of everyone getting a share and no one getting hurt.

Although most furmuli can be found thriving alone or with other species, their way of life like any other does have its blind spots. Due to their beliefs on family being such a big influence, they have trouble with children who do not inherit their parents' important qualities, struggling to adapt if their queen's child is not a good leader herself. Furmuli who cannot always adapt can be overlooked in favor of the larger community, and can easily find themselves running away rather than being able to have the majority change for a smaller minority. The happy nature of most furmuli can seem fake, though it’s almost always genuine, because they value happiness so highly that they don’t want to express true negativity when it wouldn’t help the group to do so.

And Home Before Dark (Adventuring)

Furmuli enjoy learning magic for utility, and most would rather learn a damaging spell than how to damage with a weapon. The typical furmulus might know a spell or two to help them get around, such as Feather Fall, though most never go beyond that. Many of them are capable of becoming sorcerers, thanks to their mixed ancestry. There are a number of furmulus druids and bards, but a furmuli with any sort of martial training is extremely rare.

They like to explore, either in groups or alone, though most don’t venture too far and will return home often rather than spending long stretches of time far away. Those that become full-time adventurers typically have some problem at home, either that they’ve left to try and solve or left because they couldn’t; it takes something dire to convince a furmulus to be distant from who they love most. As such, a furmulus without a preexisting family is likely to settle down if they find a good place while travelling, or to determine that nice place is with a travelling companion and resolve to follow them anywhere.

Furmuli see other races as all generally people like they are, though they’ll have an easier time with anyone they’re more familiar with. If shown a tree and a goblinoid and asked which would be more likely to hold a conversation, most furmuli from the Feywild would assume the tree was a dryad before being sure of the goblin. They hold no ill will towards new races, simply taking a long moment to accept that something so unlike the creatures they met growing up are people at all. However, unlike most sheltered humanoids, they wouldn’t be surprised at all by the likes of tortles, or any mundane animal that happened to speak Common, since animals are what they’re the most familiar with of all.

Furmuli can reproduce with the same list of species that elves can. When reproducing with another race, the children come out resembling clones of one parent or the other. Any two furmuli can have children together, who then typically inherit the ears from one parent and the tail from the other, with a mix of their parents’ hues. Having only one child at a time is the most common for Furmuli, but they’re much more likely to have twins/triplets/etc. than most humanoids are.

Pet Names

Furmuli have a vaguely playful cadence to their names: a string of consonants or vowels never goes on for too long, despite their otherwise European flair, making it sound like someone made them up one syllable at a time. They have a given name, at least one family name, and anywhere from zero to three middle names; one middle name being the most common. Their names usually all sound interchangeable, except that firsts and middles tend to be shorter than the last names (which are usually only two or three syllables themselves), and few names end with a vowel. They usually call each other by their given names.

Those without family names seem very strange, as family is such an important thing to them. Adding more family names on the other hand is considered normal, if one grows to think of a group of friends as another family; though, after two or three, other furmuli might grow curious of the story behind them all, since it’s odd to ‘go through’ so many relationships so quickly. First or middle names being copied from other cultures isn’t typical, due to the fey-taught importance of having one’s own name, but added family names can be from anywhere.

Subraces

Furmuli can be most accurately divided into three groups; diurnal, crepuscular, and nocturnal. Though most of them stay up through the day and sleep through the night regardless of their nature, and though the Feywild does not have any clear way to measure day and night, what time they are suited for informs their personality and behavior.

A diurnal furmulus is much more likely than a nocturnal to be extroverted, with crepuscular being somewhere in the middle, all able to hold friendships but some more 'sunny' than others. (Male furmuli are typically more extroverted than females, though to a lesser extent.) Along with having a beast’s characteristics to match, daytime furmulus usually have coloration towards yellow while the nightly ones have bluish tones; those associated with twilight have reddish tints instead.

Furmulus Traits

Ability Score Increase. Your Charisma score increases by 2.

Age. Furmuli reach maturity at age 7. The life expectancy varies based on their beastly characteristics, with larger animals usually living closer to 100 than the minimum of 50.

Furmulus age conversion:

Human age 0-25: x0.4

Human age 25-50: x0.6

Human age 50+: x0.75

Alignment. Furmuli are often either very lawful or very chaotic, with the same leanings throughout their whole community, and they are almost never evil. Being passionate is no reason for them to step on others’ toes, so a furmulus would say if so asked.

Size. Furmuli are typically between 4 and 5 feet tall, regardless of what size of animal their ears and tails resemble. Your size is Medium.

Height: 3'9” +2d8

Weight: 30 lbs. +(inches increased from 3'9” x1d4)

Speed. Your base walking speed is 30 feet.

Beastly Nature. You have two creature types: humanoid and beast. You can be affected by a game effect if it works on either of your creature types.

Oh My Ears and Whiskers! You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice, relating to your type of beast. For example, cats typically have talent in Perception or Stealth.

How Late It's Getting! A furmulus can take the Disengage action as a Bonus Action on each of its turns.

Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common and one other language of your choice, usually one spoken by your nearest non-Furmulus neighbors.

Diurnal Furmulus

Ability Score Increase. Your Dexterity score increases by 1.

Speak with Small Beasts. Through sounds and gestures, you can communicate simple ideas with Small or smaller beasts.

Crepuscular Furmulus

Ability Score Increase. Your Intelligence score increases by 1.

Fey Ancestry. You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can't put you to sleep.

Nocturnal Furmulus

Ability Score Increase. Your Wisdom score increases by 1.

Darkvision. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in Darkness as if it were dim light. You can’t discern color in Darkness, only Shades of Gray.

Those with ears and a tail from two different animals can mix and match one ability score increase and one feature from the subraces above, as appropriate. Ability scores more often correlate to a furmulus’ tail, and features to their ears.

#Homebrew

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sportymama · 8 years ago

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We traveled 11.75 miles this morning after breaking camp in 5-hours! We were a tad motivated to get to Red’s Meadows. As we hiked, we talked about the upcoming luxuries of SHOWERS. REAL FOOD. CELL SERVICE. Among many, one of the things this trail has lended me was to absolutely and constantly be thankful for the little things. As I paid the $15 for 15 minutes of clean water in an actual shower I considered people who do not have this option and how easy it is to take for granted. I couldn’t believe the MUD that rolled off of me and down the drain. Serious filth! Even though I was bathing daily in whatever body of water was available to us each evening, it just didn’t compare to a warm, clean, shower. How much this relates to Jesus! I would’ve paid $100 for this luxury. We laughed! Us girls. We all three went into the shower at the same time, finding three empty stalls and as we plopped our tokens into the coin operated machine and stepped in, we laughed! Hard! We stood under the rush of warm water and felt like pampered princesses and REALLY felt clean! We didn’t shave the entire trip. It was our pact. The feeling of wanting to now was SO incredibly overwhelming. It was part of the journey and being all in. We may be clean princesses but we are hairy! And so was our dude! His facial hair was reaching epic proportion! For me, this shower washed so much more than dirt away. It washed away my bad attitude from the days before, it washed away feelings of guilt over decisions I have made, expectation I’ve placed on myself and ones that have been put there by others, it washed away things I’ve been holding on to that needed desperately to be let go of, past hurts, pride issues, being judged, negative feelings, mistakes, times in my life that I fell apart, fear, the mess of the last year and the dirt of the past…..It all ran down the drain in a puddle.

Red’s Meadows is such a great place. Magical. The gathering place for all wanderers just outside of the beautiful Mammoth Lakes/Devil’s Postpile area. Full of wonderful, backpacking, happy people. It’s no wonder I loved it! (“My People” as my hubs refers to them) We quickly recognized some of our trail family. Those we’ve met along the way, and continue to see on the daily. Leap- frogging along, but always ending up camping alongside each night. Our Sylvanian’s whom we met WAY back on Glen Pass; two buddies hiking together, one of them barefoot. Tony, our dreadlocked farmer, who gave up an organic farm to hike the JMT, and of course the sweet 50th-anniversary couple, Brooks and Rita. We all filtered in little by little to the showers, the Mule House Cafe (that had the BEST cheeseburgers, fries, and fruit pie on the planet, ON THE PLANET!) and little general store that held our resupply. Interestingly enough, none of us rushed for our resupply. We opted instead for a shower, food, beer and hanging in the sunshine talking with other hikers…. in that order. We met Sam, a guy from the UK who is hiking the PCT. He is 3 weeks from finishing his 6-month journey and even though I have suffered some pretty rotten things out on this trail, I yearn for the opportunity to hike the PCT at some point. I was a little jealous. We talked to 2 women hikers from Maine that were having issues with sleeping bags. They were freezing at night and were asking opinions from everyone about new sacks that they were considering purchasing in Mammoth Lakes. We met a group of 4 women hiking together that were sharing a jar of queso dip and chips from the store. HEAVEN! We listened to the stories of fun and laughter, of animals, of heartbreak, of spiritual journeys, of blisters and sprained ankles, of sleeping COLD, of favorite and least favorite passes, the stories of their journeys and what brought them out here in the first place. I was happy to see so many solo-female hikers, and Ladies of the JMT (all of us wearing our blue bandanas on our pack to signify who we were) I was fascinated by these people and their stories and just wanted to take it all in! Sometimes I thought; man we must have a screw loose to do this, to want this, to enjoy (to some extent) the suffering of almost a month in the wilderness. The isolation, being dirty, being in the complete silence, the remoteness…but then I realized…Nah, it’s passion. It’s passion that drives this and every. single. one. of. us. has. a. story.

This was some DANG good coffee!

With our “Sylvakians” Igor (who hiked most of the trail barefoot and Jakob (Jakub)

We picked up our resupplies from the little general store and sifted through the contents. I dug….WAY down to the bottom for my note, but quickly saw that Greg had added a few other goodies to this bucket. A can of Pringle’s (oh sweet Jesus) about 5 lbs of Starburst, blister care items (first aid) and a few bottles of Fire Ball. That man knows exactly what I need even from thousands of miles away and not hearing from me in over 10 days! This would be our last resupply. My last note. The last little bit of correspondence until we finish this out. It excited me as much as it grieved me. It was bittersweet in several aspects and as happy as I was to be finishing up this incredibly, epic experience, I was deeply SO saddened at the same time.

My note to myself.

Paula,

Wild Mama, just because you cried today doesn’t make you weak, Allow the tears to come and wash your spirit clean. You’ve come a long way baby! You’re at Red’s Meadows. Reflect on where you have come from and where you’re heading. Continue to celebrate all that lies within you. God has created in you and adventurer, a lover of nature and of stars and extraordinary views. This is why you’re out here. Breathe it all in. You are stronger than you ever give yourself credit. Keep it up, badass warrior! Thanks be to God. Remember, you planned well and are ready for the next few days to the finish!

And from G.

Look at you, Lady! Wow! Bad-assery in its truest form. Your body is probably a little beat up and tired, but that’s ok. Better this than a lump on the couch. Embrace it all! You can make it this last stretch, dig in and remember, LOOK UP! Hopefully, you remember me at the end of this. I will be the guy standing with a cold beer, a super-soaker, and a razor. Ha-Ha! I love you, G

I roared with laughter as I read this. Along with his funny note, and myriad of additional goodies, he had packed the baggies of my re-packaged dehydrated meals (yes RE-PACKAGED because weight is EVERYTHING when it’s on your back) and had renamed a few for me, which brought some great laughter around our little Jet Boils as we cooked dinner at camp.

We had to say goodbye to Red’s Meadows in the morning and start our way up Donahue Pass. It was hard leaving. We ate an AMAZING breakfast with WAAAAY too much coffee from a pot. Donahue is a big pass with 23-ish miles to the top. It’s long and gradual reaching 11,703 feet. We camped part way up around the Shadow Lake area. We had decided to bite this last section off in chunks. This was a gorgeous camp, with a waterfall right outside my tent door. (and for me, besides sunrises and sunsets, waterfalls rank HIGH up on the food chain of gorgeous-must-sees for me. I LOVE them) I climbed to the top of the falls and spent some alone time with God thanking Him for his creation, for His love for us through his creation. The beauty here and along this entire journey has been unsurpassed. I thanked Him for the opportunity of being out here, for His healing on my feet and body. I thanked Him for my hiking partners and keeping us all healthy (for the most part.) and safe. Out of the four of us, we had one common thread before going into this hike….our dude! K and I knew one another, but not to the depths that we did now. J and I met the day she, K and her hubs picked me up in San Bernardino to head to Lone Pine. Talk about really putting your faith into your hiking partners. So for us to make it this far with only a few small scrapes and bumps along the trail (so to say) I think I was in good company. I was so thankful for their underserved patience, and their inspiration, and kindness. I know we all had days where the raw emotion was high and we wanted to scream at one another, but in the end, we showed love, appreciation, devotion, fortitude, humility, mercy and grace. We showed friendship. I was so grateful for that. Complete and utter favor in the most extreme conditions Their compassion was incredible. I know full well that some days, probably most days, I was deserving of NONE of it!

That one day that J fell and K had to bandage her up with a Maxi-Pad!!

I took a deep breath as I climbed into my tent and into my mummy, the cascading sound of the falls outside the door making me dizzy with relaxation and tiredness. It had started to rain and we all retreated to our tents early. The daylight still lingered. I sat up and re-read the note from G and giggled. He has the greatest way of always making me and those around him laugh! He would love this spot. I cannot believe this journey is almost ending. I didn’t want it to. It had changed me in some pretty profound ways already. What would going home be like? What would matter to me that hadn’t before? What things would I cherish more and what would I no longer need or care to have? Would I want to go home and buy a Tiny House in the woods after living in Big Agnes for the past 3 1/2 weeks? What would I appreciate more and find unnecessary? What would food and water taste like? Different? Possibly. I do know the need to see my family was so colossal. To breathe them in deeply was all I wanted. That, and to lift and inhale the sweet, dirty, earthy, grass-smell of my puppy’s paws. (this is something her and I do several times a day) Those things that on a daily we become so accustomed to, that are so ordinary at times, that never will be again. They just can’t be.

Start my JMT journey from the beginning HERE

Tales From the Trail -Red’s Meadows We traveled 11.75 miles this morning after breaking camp in 5-hours! We were a tad motivated to get to…

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