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onceupon · 3 years ago

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London Boy - Part 2: Let the Game begin

summary: You had always thought you knew exactly what kind of boys Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton were - but did you actually?

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

a/n: no one is asking for this but here it is anyways lmao enjoy (not canon Rafe)

You make it back to your room and take a deep breath. Boys. You were living with boys. Not just any boys - Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton. Whatever, you thought, shaking yourself back to reality. It didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t about to let them get in the way of having the time of your life these next few months and you definitely weren’t going to let them keep your mind tied to OBX. That was a tie you desperately wanted to cut. Besides, if you knew Rafe and Topper like you thought you did, they’d be too caught up with playing both the field and the girls of Westheath before you knew it, effectively keeping them occupied and out of your way.

You decided to go about your day as you usually would. Your Have a Great Day playlist was queued up and playing as you slipped on your favorite jeans and top. You let yourself get absentmindedly lost in your actions as you did your hair and makeup - enough to make you feel put together and regain some control after the way this morning had left you feeling vulnerable. Looking good made you feel good - and if anyone else thought you looked good too, then hey, that was just an added bonus.

You hadn’t noticed how lost in the process of getting ready you had gotten until you looked down at your phone and saw that an hour had flown by. You were half way down the hall to the kitchen when the door of your flat flew open, bringing you face to face with two new people for the second time that day.

“Oh my gosh hiiii!” a girl turned to you, pausing her laughter from the conversation she was having with the girl next to her. “I’m Olivia! It’s so nice to meet you!!” the bubbly girl exclaimed, immediately embracing you in a hug. The other girl laughed at her friend’s excitement and forwardness which had clearly startled you.

“I’m Millie - you must be one of our flatmates,” the other girl smiled, introducing herself to you as well.

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” you smiled softly.

“Oh my gosh Mills! I knew it! I told you we’d get roomed with the Americans! Ugh this is so exciting, there’s so much I need to know I don’t even know where to start!” Olivia squealed with a little hop.

“Alright don’t scare the poor girl, she’s gonna think they’ve stuck her with a couple of psychos,” laughed Millie, pulling her friend’s arm to lead her down the hall. “Come on Liv let’s let y/n breathe for a second while we go put our bags down,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

You laughed and continued on to the kitchen to get some water as you had originally set out to do. You were honestly relieved. Thank god your other two roommates were girls who weren’t remotely associated with OBX. You didn’t even mind their intensity, it was endearing really, and you’d take a couple of loud but genuine girls who seemed like they were a bunch of fun to hang out with over the bitchiness and cattiness you were used to with the girls back home at Kildare.

“Alright Y/n, I forgot sheets and Mills didn’t bring a towel so we’re going to Primark and you’re coming with. I want to hear all the American gossip,” Olivia reappeared and then slipped back down the hallway with a wink. You laughed and went to go grab your bag, just then realizing Rafe and Topper were no longer at the flat. You wondered where they had gone, not hearing them slip out over the music you were playing earlier. Not that you cared, it was a relief to have them out of sight and out of mind for now.

—

“Hmm Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, does sound rather posh,” mused Millie as you had begun providing some intel to your friends on the two flatmates they had yet to meet.

“Two American ladies men, sign me up!” cackled Olivia.

“Hey watch yourself missy, you’re taken,” Millie scolded.

You had only known these girls for maybe an hour and somehow you had been comfortable enough with them to open up about your entire life’s backstory as you walked with them through the home section of Primark. It felt like they had been your friends for years, the three of you gelling together effortlessly.

“Oo you have a boyfriend?” you asked as your eyes scanned over the shelf of fluffy blankets in front of you. You simply couldn’t leave without the light grey one, daydreaming about how cozy napping with it would be.

“I do. His name is Jake,” Olivia beamed, “he’s kind of an idiot, but I love him.”

“And he’s got a whole squad of idiot friends too, but you’ll see for yourself,” Millie laughed.

“Oh shit that reminds me! I invited them all over to pregame tonight before freshers,” chimed Olivia.

“What’s freshers?” you asked, raising your brows in confusion.

Millie and Olivia shared a quick laugh at how clueless you were to everything in their world.

“So freshers is like this huge club event at the beginning of the school year. It’s really meant for uni freshers but since half of us are 18 and we can easily sneak in the other half it’s kind of tradition for Westheath kids to go their last year. Me and Mills went last year too though, one of the guys we knew the year above us was cousins with the bouncer,” Olivia grinned proudly. “But literally everyone is going and that means you’re coming too and- oh shit I’m such a bloody idiot aren’t I! I’m sorry Y/n I literally didn’t think at all to ask anyone from our flat if it was okay to host a pregame,” she bit her thumb with guilt-ridden eyes.

“Looks like you and your idiot boyfriend are actually a match made in heaven,” joked Millie as Olivia gave her the finger, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh no that’s totally fine! I’ve had like barely any human interaction these last few days and it’ll be nice to meet some more people from Westheath. It’ll be fun,” you reassured Olivia with a genuine smile. “I just uh- I’ve never been clubbing. Like what do I even wear, I don’t think I brought anything like that. And I’m not 18 for another month, would I even get in?”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re here isn’t it!” exclaimed Olivia, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the clothes section. “Mills this would be PERFECT don’t you think,” she said as she held up a sheer black top in front of you.

“Oh my gosh yes. With a black bra underneath and mini skirt,” Millie grinned, nodding in excitement with Olivia.

“Guys I don’t know if I can wear this. Like I don’t think I can pull this off,” you said meekly.

“Oh my god shut up this would look so good on you. Your body is killer and you can 1000% pull this off,” Olivia insisted, shoving the garment toward you. “And we’ll get you in the club no problem,” she added firmly, shutting down any possibility of you talking your way out of tonight.

“Wait shit do you think Rafe and Topper will be cool with the pregame? We haven’t even properly met them yet and I’ve already invited a bunch of strangers to our place,” groaned Olivia as the three of you headed toward the register.

“Trust me, if there’s two things those boys definitely don’t mind it’s a party and a reason to drink,” you laughed.

—-

As the three of you unlocked the door to your flat you could hear Rafe and Topper’s voices from the kitchen. Ugh, back already.

“Hellooo boys,” called Olivia with zero hesitation, walking straight into the kitchen. “Name’s Olivia, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled extending her hand.

“Pleasure is all ours,” Rafe smiled back. It took every ounce of your will power not to roll your eyes at his smugness.

“Indeed it is,” grinned Topper giving her a hand shake. “And you are,” Topper immediately drew his attention to Millie entering the kitchen right behind Olivia. You didn’t miss how his eyes ran her up and down.

“Millie, your fifth and final roommate,” she smirked, not having missed his wandering eyes either.

“So listen boys,” Olivia clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “I may have invited my boyfriend and some of our friends over to pregame tonight before we all go out to the club. You guys are obviously welcome to join but if you’re not cool with us having people over just say the word and-“

“Done deal. What time should we be ready?” Topper cut her off

“9. See you then,” she grinned from ear to ear sauntering off to her room.

“Alright I need to go unpack, but it was lovely to meet you boys, see you soon,” Millie smiled, eyes locking with Topper’s for a second too long before she too slipped away. You wanted nothing more than to escape to your room as well but you were starving, and since you were now living with Rafe and Topper you’d have to learn to go about your life around your new home despite their presence. You sighed as you made your way to the fridge, trying to decide what you were gonna scrap together for dinner.

“So how long have you been here already?” asked Rafe, grabbing some Pringles and taking a seat at the table, Topper already spreading out comfortably on the couch.

“Uh, few days,” you replied, not bothering to turn around.

“See anything cool yet,” Topper chimed in as he scrolled on his phone. The way they were asking you questions was oddly normal. You were trying hard to detect any hint of cockiness in their voice but you couldn’t find any. You weren’t ready to let your guard down fully, not entirely trusting the pair, but you decided to soften a bit and give them a chance.

“Yeah actually, I walked around Hyde Park the other day and the day before I watched the sunset from Millennium Bridge. It was beautiful,” you replied, finally turning toward the boys, a jar of pasta sauce in hand.

“Crazy being in a city like this huh. Definitely not the Outer Banks,” Rafe chuckled lightly, gaze settling on the window.

“Definitely not the Outer Banks,” you smiled.

—-

“What do you mean you haven’t watched Friends!?” you let out an exasperated cry as you twirled more spaghetti on your fork.

“It’s stupid,” said Topper, making a face.

“It’s a classic,” you retorted.

“No. The Office though. Now that’s a classic.”

“Should’ve know you were an Office guy,” you shook your head, Rafe laughing from his seat across from you.

“Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t know how to appreciate true comedy,” Topper shrugged.

“Yeah okay,” you rolled your eyes, turning now to face the dirty blonde seated across from you, absent mindedly shuffling a deck of cards for no reason, the golden ring on his finer catching your eye as his hands moved in a repetitive motion. “And what about you Mr. Dealer,” you asked Rafe, eyes motioning to the cards in his hand before going back up to meet his gaze. Rafe knew how to keep good eye contact with a person, confident yet not overpowering, and as the evening progressed and you become more comfortable you welcomed the challenge of his piercing blue eyes.

“I’m more of a How I Met Your Mother guy,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Huh, I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as that.”

“And what would you have pegged me as, Y/n,” he asked, still holding your gaze to which you just shrugged playfully, letting him wonder.

“Okay, forget about comedies. Game of Thrones. Hands down best thing I’ve ever watched,” Topper stated, throwing his palms down on the table.

“I mean I do hear good things, but I don’t know, seems kind of intense,” you said before shoving another forkful of spaghetti in your mouth.

“No no no Y/n you literally don’t know what you’re missing out on, it’s pure genius,” Topper continued passionately.

Rafe gave you a knowing glance as you two made eye contact again, trying not to laugh, “He’s been on my ass for years to watch it.”

“And now you have no excuse! It’s senior man, classes will be light work, just give it a chance,” Topper pleaded.

“You know what Topper, just because you’re practically jumping out of your seat right now, I’ll check it out just for you,” you laughed as Toppers face pulled into a wide grin.

“Good enough for me,” he said victoriously.

“Lemme one up that Topps, I’ll also give it a chance, so it better be worth it,” Rafe added, Topper’s eyes growing wide in simultaneous glee and disbelief. Topper quickly got up from his seat, puffing his chest, “woooo! Winter is coming to London baby!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist before heading down the hall to his room.

Two hours had passed by with you hanging out in the kitchen with Rafe and Topper, and to your surprise… you were actually enjoying yourself. You guys had talked about the things you wanted to do in London, the music you all listened to, favorite movies, and tv shows of course. You almost didn’t know how to process it. How could two guys who seemed like such kook douchebags actually be - cool? You had always regarded the two at face value, but perhaps there was more to these boys than what meets the eye.

“Oh god how is it already 8, I’m so behind,” you groaned, getting up to wash your dishes.

“Once Topper is full speed ahead, there’s no stopping that man,” Rafe laughed.

“Hey,” you turned your head around from the sink, soapy dish in hand. “I was actually serious about giving Game of Thrones a try. Damn Topper if he didn’t make me curious now,” you laughed, “but I was thinking, if you’re actually gonna watch too, that we should time it so we both watch on the same days. Because then if we’re on the same schedule, whenever we see each other in the kitchen or something we can discuss and we’ll be on the same episodes so no spoilers.”

“So you mean we’d both watch on our own but at the same time?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, as if it was obvious. That’s what you literally just described.

“Well if we’re gonna watch it at the same time, we might as well just watch it together Y/n,” he calmly stated, walking right up next to you to put his Pringles away.

“Uh yeah I mean that works too,” you replied, looking up at the boy now next to you, getting slightly flustered by his presence once again. His blue eyes were piercing right through you, and this time it was a losing a battle.

“Cool,” he smiled, turning around and walking out of the kitchen to his room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, the water still running in front of you as you stood their holding the sponge like an idiot. What the fuck just happened?

---

Part 3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe obx

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Me and You Together, 6/10 (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: won't say much but i will say that i love tits and cats but i love reblogs, screaming in the tags and asks a whole lot more babes. if u like this i would love any of the former, but mostly the latter xo hope u all enjoy this chapter!!! cw for smut fam (hwfg!!)

last chapter: February- Valentine's Day saw Tayce and A'whora's cover blown as they were interrupted by Ellie and Lawrence.

this chapter: April- a lot has happened since last month, and at Lawrence’s friend’s flat party A’whora struggles with her feelings for Tayce. The trouble is, neither of them have ever been any good at sticking to the rules.

***

In front of the wooden tenement door with the music and voices muffled behind it, A’whora watches as Ellie frowns, tugs at the hemline of her green snakeskin-patterned skirt.

“Is this too short?”

“ No , Ellie,” A’whora, Tayce and Tia all groan at her in sync before giggling at the absurdity of their unison. She catches Tayce’s eye for a second before smiling bashfully and looking at the floor, electing to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. She wordlessly orders her heart to calm down, to stop doing backflips the way it’s doing right now. A reaction like that is much too selfish, against everything they said they would be going forward.

“Ain’t short enough,” Bimini shrugs blithely, hitching the top of their own hotpants up as if to make a point but only succeeding to rip their fishnets on one of their chunky rings. “Shit.”

“Were they new?” Tayce asks.

“Yeah. A whole two quid out of Primark.”

“How is your bank account ever gonny recover?” Lawrence dramatises, clutching at her heart as Bimini sticks their tongue out at her good-humouredly. As the others snort at Lawrence’s joke, Lawrence herself turns to Ellie and pats her arm. “It’s not too anything, you look great.”

A’whora doesn’t miss the way Ellie flushes red as she thanks her friend, and in spite of herself she finds herself trying to hide a smile. If she can’t be happy, at least one of her friends looks like she’s on her way to figuring her own feelings out soon enough. A’whora just hopes it’ll all have a better ending than her own love story seems to have had.

“Have we definitely got the right flat, Lawrence? You’ve not just brought us to some randomer’s party by accident?” Tia agonises as she rubs her arms, self-conscious and cold. April’s blessed them with some sporadic day-long heatwaves but tonight hasn’t been as kind; the walk over to Lawrence’s friend’s flat party had been chilly, and they’d all needed their jackets.

A’whora supposes the temperature suits her situation.

Embittered by the cold and her self-pity, A’whora rolls her eyes. “It’s not 2010 anymore, Tia, nobody says randomers .”

“Well I do,” Tia shrugs lightly, and before A’whora can begin to bicker with her Lawrence huffs a sigh of exasperation.

“It’s the right flat, awrite?! I have been here before, you know. She’ll answer any second. Could yous all just stop the arguing and pretend to be normal human beings for once in your lives?”

A’whora raises her eyebrows pointedly. “A feat that’s going to be harder for some of us than others…”

As both Lawrence and Tia whip their heads round to scold her, the front door opens to reveal a tall girl with full lips, striking hazel eyes and a thick head of candyfloss pink hair that tumbles down over her shoulders and the straps of the tight black bodysuit she’s wearing. She’s gorgeous, and A’whora is immediately intimidated. Her eyes dart to Tayce in a small panic, trying to gauge her reaction, but she’s distracted by Lawrence’s “WAHEY!” and the girl’s excited squeal as they pull each other into a hug.

“Lads, this is Rosé, Rosé, lads!” Lawrence gestures at her flatmates flippantly, and A’whora waves a hand in an awkward hello much like the rest of the others. Lawrence turns her attention back to her friend with an apologetic grimace. “Hope you don’t mind me bringing them, babes. I know you said bring people if they’re cool, but I don’t actually know any cool people, so…”

A’whora holds back a snort as she watches Tayce’s face screw up in involuntary offence. Rosé, for her part, just laughs and ushers them all in warmly.

“Don’t be silly, of course it’s fine! Come in, baby, let’s get you and your friends sat down and you can introduce me properly, m’kay?”

Once they’ve hung up their jackets Rosé leads the six of them through a crowded hallway, forgoes the thump of the bass and the packed space of bodies all crammed together in the kitchen and instead chooses a quieter room. The multiple sofas, stained coffee table and mismatched chairs suggest it’s a living room of sorts. There’s already people on the couches but Rosé simply bats them away as if they’re flies, irritation on her face.

“Move, my friends are sitting here,” she says simply, before the others grunt and slink off like foxes, tails between their legs. Rosé pats the now-empty seats, pulling a face. “Sorry about them. They’re just girls we hung out with last year before we realised what they were actually like. Freshers friendships, y’know? Nobody really wants them to be here, but Jan insisted we had to invite them so things weren’t awkward.”

“Ever the diplomat, oor Janette,” Lawrence smiles with understanding, throwing herself down beside her friend comfortably. Ellie quickly sits beside her on the other spare space, prompting A’whora to take the other sofa that’s left.

(To her surprise, Tayce sits beside her. Not close, though. A’whora doesn’t know what she expected.)

It leaves Tia and Bimini to take the other smaller couch, and as they sit Rosé stays true to her word and introduces herself to everyone, making an effort to learn their names and appearing genuinely pleased to meet them all (although that could just be a result of the bottle she’s drinking from). When she gets to Ellie her face grows scheming, and A’whora doesn’t miss the way she digs Lawrence in the ribs.

“So you’re Ellie! I’ve heard so much about you from Lawrence,” Rosé purrs, earning a glare from her friend and a laugh from Ellie.

“Fuck’s sake, I bet you have. All horror stories, I’m sure.”

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Rosé smiles smugly, then flinches suddenly with a hiss. It doesn’t take Poirot to figure out that Lawrence is the cause.

“SO, Rosé! Where the fuck is your girlfriend anyway? Don’t tell me she’s left you,” Lawrence says, too-quickly and too-loudly.

“Shut up. Last time I saw her she was in the kitchen talking to one of her graduate friends,” Rosé pouts faux-dejectedly. “Think it’s a girl who studied fashion design so they were in the same faculty and knew each other for a bit.”

A’whora perks up. “Oh, we’d get on then, I think. I’m studying fashion design too, and Ellie does costume.”

“I’ll get Jan to introduce you!” Rosé smiles enthusiastically, before continuing with the conversation. “Plus I totally didn’t realise she was flatmates with Nina, who was in the MT society with us last year! Small world, huh?”

“Oh my God! You guys did MT?” Tia squeals excitedly. A’whora presses her lips together to stop herself from saying anything; trust Tia to be completely unable to play things cool. “I’m in it this year! How come we haven’t met before?”

Rosé giggles, covers her mouth with her hand. “We didn’t audition this year. Not to be rude, but we wanted to give everyone else a fighting chance, you know? We’ve got a slot in the Jazz Bar with our friend every Tuesday now instead.”

Tia’s face drops like she’s been slapped, and A’whora can’t help the way her eyebrows fly up her forehead. As she looks to Tayce, though, she’s disheartened. Usually Tayce would chime in with a little whoop in response to the shady comment, throw herself right into the conversation, be the complete life and soul of the party. Instead she’s muted, quiet, practically a wallflower in comparison. A’whora knows this isn’t like her. The guilt eats her up as she knows it’s somehow her fault, but still she can’t work out exactly why.

“Kandace!” Rosé suddenly yells out into the hall, startling A’whora somewhat. “Where’s my girlfriend, mama?”

Just then a girl enters the room, her dark hair in thick braids which she flips over her shoulder dramatically. “Well damn, bitch, I never took her! Would know better than to do so, you would come at me with a big...pizza cutter or some shit. She prolly in the kitchen drinking all the punch.”

“There’s punch?” Ellie pipes up, Tia’s wide eyes and anticipative smile matching her excitement.

“Damn right there’s punch, what sort of party d’you think this is? Amateurs. C’mon, I’ll show you both. You can introduce yourselves on the way,” the girl shrugs with the efficient energy of an infant teacher.

“Oh, I like you already,” Ellie smiles as she springs up from the sofa, and A’whora doesn’t miss the crestfallen look that takes over Lawrence’s face in response to Ellie's departure.

“Rosé, if I find Jan I’ll send her through,” the girl yells from over her shoulder, as the three of them leave the room. Rosé immediately turns to Lawrence as Ellie leaves, whispers something like ‘ so when are you gonna tell her?’ before she’s hastily shushed by her friend.

A’whora always has to remind herself she’s not meant to know about Lawrence’s crush on Ellie. She only knows because Tayce told her. Tayce doesn’t really tell her things these days, not in the same way she used to. Their chats used to be deep and meaningful, shared over a glass of wine in a dimly-lit bar or in bed pressed close together and wrapped around each other like vines. Now it’s flippant inquiries into how each others’ day was that neither of them care about the answer to, the question only serving as a box-ticking exercise to maintain the illusion of friendship.

That’s what they said they’d be. So why does this friendship feel so different to the one they had before?

Well. A’whora knows why.

She’d thought this situation would be perfect- Lawrence had been invited to Rosé’s pre-exam-season flat party, and of course had in turn invited the whole flat too- and A’whora had assumed that it would be the perfect opportunity to get everything back on track with Tayce, a little bit of alcohol giving them the gentle nudge in the right direction that they needed to mend whatever had snapped between them. But as Tayce sips one of the cans of cider she’s brought with her, she only smiles at Rosé politely and laughs half-heartedly at Lawrence’s jokes.

It’s been weeks since that day in March and A’whora’s still trying to figure out what exactly happened. It’s strange for something to be over before it ever really had a chance to begin.

Her thoughts are ruptured by the arrival of two more people: a boy with black hair, an earring and a black denim jacket and a girl with tumbling straight blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She’s got a pink sash that’s squint and falling off her shoulder, and a huge pink birthday badge pinned to her purple dress. When she walks in, Rosé’s whole face lights up.

A’whora tries to remember if Tayce’s face ever did that when she came into a room.

“There’s my baby!” Rosé beams, holds out her arms for a hug. The girl instead elects to tumble down onto her lap, and the two of them giggle like Care Bears.

Fleetingly, A’whora hates them.

“Oh, fuck me, right?” the boy fakes offence, before Rosé rolls her eyes and pats the space beside her where Lawrence has scooted up.

“You know damn well I was referring to you,” she addresses him, before turning to her girlfriend once more. “Jan, Mik, these are Lawrence’s flatmates!”

“Oh my God, adorbs! Lil’ fresher babies,” the boy says, with a vocal fry to rival that of a Valley girl. A’whora knows he doesn’t mean to be patronising, but her back’s put up all the same.

She’s probably just in a bad mood over Tayce.

“I hope it’s okay I brought them,” Lawrence says, apologising for their very presence for the second time that evening.

“Hey, the more people here to get drunk and forget about the overwhelming stress of deadline season, the better,” the girl shrugs cheerfully, then waves to nobody in particular. “Nice to meet you all! I’m Jan, that’s Mik. Can I learn names? Pronouns if you want to as well?”

Lawrence slaps her thigh decisively. “Crackin’ idea, I’ll start. I’m Lawrence and my pronouns are she/her, or fat/bastard.”

The room is filled with hysterical laughter that immediately breaks any ice that had been present between the freshers and the second year students. As they all introduce themselves politely, A’whora doesn’t fail to notice the way Mik’s eyes light up when Bimini introduces themself.

“Hey, do you know if they’re single?” Mik asks Lawrence, tipsy and sloppy and in a whisper that isn’t really a whisper. A’whora can’t help but laugh as she watches Bimini blush from their position on the sofa and smile over at Mik, flattered.

“Sorry to disappoint, babes, but I’m taken.”

It’s with Bimini’s words that Lawrence gives a yell of surprise and A’whora’s jaw drops open in shock. She can’t help the way she immediately looks wide-eyed at Tayce, and her heart jumps a hurdle when she sees her looking in her direction with much the same expression. Tayce’s shock at the secret Bimini’s kept from them prompts her to lurch forward on the sofa and give a cry of surprise.

“Ex-squeeze me, Bimini Bon Boulash?! Since bloody when ?!”

Bimini shrugs, clearly bashful. “Made things official with Asttina late on last month. Ain’t a big deal.”

“And when were you going to tell us this exactly? Were you gonna leave it in your last will and testament or something?!” A’whora cries, heart jarring at the laugh her words earn from Tayce.

Bimini stretches in their own catlike way, unbothered and laid back to an almost horizontal extent. “Well, you never asked.”

“What the hell?! This is big. C’mon Rory,” Tayce suddenly turns to A’whora and clutches at her hand frantically, and in doing so sends a thousand sparks flying between them. As A’whora’s pulse leaps, Tayce does the same off the sofa. “We need to go find the others. You ain’t getting away with just the three of us on this interrogation squad, Mx Bimini!”

“Alright, Line of effin’ Duty,” Bimini chuckles good-naturedly, and A’whora allows Tayce to drag her up off the sofa and through to the hall.

Tayce is giggling as she’s weaving them both through the crowd, and for a moment it’s like nothing has ever changed between them. A’whora’s not been keeping track of how many cans Tayce has had so far but she herself has only had three (two at pres, one here so far), so she’s not attributing that to the sudden personality transplant. She’s trying not to overthink it too much but this is the most authentic interaction she’s had with Tayce for a while, and it’s silly, but it’s hard to believe it’s not too good to be true.

For a moment, she’s almost glad Bimini didn’t tell them about Asttina if it meant she and Tayce could bond like this.

“Can you bloody believe it?!” Tayce squeaks at her as they reach the kitchen and, in turn, the punch bowl. Tayce wrenches two red cups from the stack beside it and fills them up with the ambiguous orange liquid that’s inside, pouring it sloppily and messily from the ladle. “I mean they’re meant to be our bloody friend! And then they don’t even tell us about the breaking news in their own love life! What goes on!”

“To be fair…” A’whora begins without thinking, then snaps her mouth closed as her heart shudders in her chest. She’d been about to say we kept us a secret from them too but she can’t bring that up now, send them crashing back down to earth and into the broken, uncomfortable bed they’ve somehow made. So she smiles tightly at Tayce who’s looking at her expectantly, takes the cup she’s holding out to her as she finishes her sentence. “...Bim’s always been a pretty private person.”

Tayce shrugs and holds the cup to her lips before she raises her eyebrows, takes it away and holds it out in the middle between them. “Cheers, slag.”

Silly and overeager, A’whora crashes their cups together then takes a too-big swig. The punch fills her mouth like poison and she feels her eyes grow wide as she swallows and then gags, Tayce doubling over laughing at her reaction.

“What the fuck is in that?!” she cries with horror, looking at the cup with incredulity as Tayce continues to laugh at her expense.

“It’s called punch for a reason, girl! It ain’t some fruity dilutey Slug and Lettuce pornstar martini tree we’re talking about here!”

“Punch is right. Feel like I’ve been punched in the fucking stomach,” A’whora screws her face up. Tayce’s face lights up and her hand rests on A’whora’s arm as she launches into a story excitedly.

“Oh my God. D’you remember that time we made punch back near freshers week and Lawrence added that thing to it...fuck, what was it called?! She kept calling it ‘wreck the hoose juice’.”

“Buckfast!” A’whora remembers with glee, trying not to grow too animated because if she moves she might scare Tayce away like she’s some sort of rare bird. This is the closest she’s been to Tayce in every sense for quite a while, and the moment is so magical that she’s determined not to let it slip away.

“That was it! And then the next day we were all so ill we were like...convinced we’d been spiked! But it was just that bloody Buckfast!”

As the pair of them giggle, A’whora starts laughing harder as she remembers what Tayce had said.

“Sorry, but hearing the words ‘wreck the hoose juice’ in a Welsh accent is probably the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

Tayce removes her hand from her arm only to slap her on it. “Oh, because the same thing in a Worksop accent is so much better!”

“We should get Ellie to say it. She's Scottish, it'll sound the same as when Lawrence says it,” A’whora says, then scans her gaze around the room and narrows her eyes. “Where the hell is she, anyway? We still need to tell her and Tia about Bim.”

The roar of a countdown from ten down to one on the other side of the kitchen prompts both her and Tayce’s gazes to wrench in its direction, only for their eyes to fall on Tia glugging a horrific-looking brown concoction out of a pint glass and Ellie yelling descending numbers at her, along with Rosé’s flatmate they’d disappeared with and a crowd of strangers.

“Of course,” Tayce deadpans, earning a snort from A’whora. Just then, A'whora remembers some chat Ellie had told her while they were getting ready, and she turns to tell Tayce without thinking. It's just natural to tell Tayce these sorts of things by now, and she's missed doing so.

“You know Ellie told me earlier she’s gonna like...see what happens with Lawrence tonight?” A’whora relays to Tayce eagerly, before she forgets that Tayce had sworn her to secrecy about the whole thing and her mouth snaps shut. It’s too late though, because Tayce is fixing her with a single raised eyebrow and a smirk which shouldn’t make A’whora’s stomach flip over like it does.

Friends, friends, friends.

“God, wonder how come Ellie’s suddenly over Tia and open to Lawrence?” she teases her, and A’whora groans apologetically.

“Look, I know you said not to tell anyone but it was the day they had that row in the flat,” she explains, belatedly and awkwardly realising that it had been the same day that she and Tayce had had that conversation and everything had changed between them. A’whora tries to shake the feeling of regret as she carries on. “Ellie was saying how Lawrence didn’t care about her and all that and it...well, it just came out. I had to shut her up somehow.”

Tayce shakes her head and laughs, toeing the line between long-suffering and affectionate. When she takes A’whora’s hand and squeezes it the line is crossed, and a thousand fireworks go off in her bloodstream. Tayce's eyes are soft as she looks at her and it only makes A’whora’s heart hurt.

“My fault, really. Should’ve known you can’t keep a secret to save yourself.”

“Kept us a secret for long enough,” A’whora says before she can stop herself. She feels like slapping a hand over her mouth, a flimsy gesture illustrating her mistake, and from the way Tayce lets go of her hand and looks to the floor it seems she regrets it just as much as A’whora does.

Fuck.

When Tayce snaps her head back up there’s a smile on her face that A’whora knows is fake, and she sets her cup down on the counter as she looks back over at Ellie and Tia. “Right! You wait here and guard the punch. I’ll drag those two hounds over and we can give them the goss.”

A’whora nods as she takes her turn to look to the floor, and suddenly Tayce is off in the direction of their other flatmates and all she can do is sit and stew in her embarrassment and regret at having said the wrong thing yet-a-fucking-gain.

Ellie has told A’whora countless times to just talk to her! and that if you just sit and chat things through everything will be fixed! but it’s been things A’whora’s said that’s somehow got them into this mess, even though she still doesn’t really know what specifically it was that made Tayce make the decision to stop it all, to stop falling asleep together and waking up together and going on dates (because they were dates, and that’s the hill A’whora will die on) and talking to each other like they’d known each other for eight years and not eight months.

When she thinks about the ways she misses Tayce, the sex isn’t even the first thing that comes to mind. That’s how she knows she was in deep. Well, still is. But A’whora would be lying if she said she didn’t still think about Tayce when her hands are between her thighs, has to stop the memories that flood her head when she's in the shower, moans just that little bit too loudly when she uses her vibrator in the pathetic hope that Tayce will hear her through the wall.

She supposes there’s a ridiculous part of her that misses the intimacy and the closeness most of all.

“Aurora!”

A’whora’s dragged out of her thoughts and turns around to see Jan standing beside a tall blonde in a tight red dress. Even though her mind is still entirely preoccupied by Tayce, her mouth goes a little dry and her heart skips a beat because...well, she still knows an attractive girl when she sees one. She fixes the two girls with a polite smile as Jan gestures at the girl beside her.

“This is Brooke Lynn! She’s my friend from the design faculty that did fashion? Rosé was saying you wanted introduced.”

A’whora feels her cheeks flush red as Brooke cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks. “Truthfully, I’m flattered. Always happy to meet a fan.”

A’whora shakes her head and gives an embarrassed laugh. “That’s not...I mean-”

“I’m just fucking with you. Nice to meet you,” Brooke smiles lazily, leaning against the countertop as Jan slips away. “So Jan was saying you’re studying design too?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s hell on earth just now, especially with deadline season coming up. But I do actually really enjoy it most of the time,” A’whora replies politely.

Brooke laughs in fond recollection. “God, I don’t miss that. Portfolios were a bitch.”

“Right!” A’whora agrees enthusiastically. “It’s quite nice, though, because lots of my flatmates are at the art school as well, so we kind of all have that shared bond of going through the shit together. Lawrence does textiles, Ellie does costume and Tayce does fine art. In fact, that’s Ellie and Tayce over there.”

A’whora turns to point to where Tayce has found Ellie, although she’s perturbed to see the two of them already looking their way. Ellie’s eyes widen as she gives them an awkward wave and Tayce immediately looks elsewhere, her entire body language shifty as if she’s been caught out.

A’whora’s pulse starts to race all over again. Is she…? No.

But then she thinks about that night in December when they first kissed, how A’whora had been driven so crazy by Tayce talking to so many other girls that she was basically forced to show her hand and her feelings. She knows they said they’d be friends, but this situation is being handed to her on a plate and she’d be an idiot to turn it down.

So A’whora flips some of her hair over her shoulder and exposes her neck as she tilts her head with interest. “So, Rosé was saying you graduated last year?”

She and Brooke Lynn talk for a while; A’whora doesn’t know if it’s five minutes or twenty, but with every passing minute she steps up the flirting just a little tiny bit more, so that it’s nearly imperceptible to any onlookers. Tayce is different though, because she’s not just any onlooker. To anyone else it just looks like two strangers getting to know each other at a party, but A’whora knows Tayce sees every time she tucks her hair behind her ears, every time she giggles behind her hands, every time she nods eagerly at whatever Brooke is saying.

She can feel Tayce’s eyes on her, and A’whora would be lying if she said it didn’t make her stomach flip over all the more.

She’s not getting much from Brooke, though: not much of a reaction, not much reciprocation, not much anything. So the moment she steps things up a bit and touches her lightly on the arm as she laughs at a joke she’s made, A’whora’s sure it’ll get her somewhere. Only Brooke pulls a face, moves her arm away and apologises.

“God, I’m sorry...you’re sweet, but I’ve actually got a girlfriend,” she explains, and A’whora feels herself blush, embarrassed at having been spurned but also that it was all in full view of Tayce. It’s made even worse by the way Brooke’s face lights up as her eyes fall on someone over A’whora’s shoulder. “In fact, here she is now! Hey, baby.”

Another girl appears from behind her and moves to stand beside Brooke, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. She’s small and pretty and hostile, and A’whora is suddenly regretting the entire making-Tayce-jealous endeavour if she’s about to get grief from Brooke’s girlfriend.

“And who the fuck is this bitch?” the girl says by way of an introduction, not so much a question but a demand.

“Vanessa…” Brooke looks at her warningly, but the girl continues regardless.

“Nah, I just wanna know what business she thinks she has comin’ onto my girl like this?” she narrows her eyes at A’whora. A’whora, for her part, has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow her more.

This never happened to Tayce in December, that’s for fucking sure.

“Honestly, babes, we were just talking. She’s just told me she’s taken, I would never have tried anything if I’d known,” she tries to explain, but judging from how the girl reacts she’s only made the situation worse.

“Babes? I ain’t your babe, Milkybar-Kid-lookin’ ass!” she cries, and A’whora feels her eyes darting to the punch bowl beside her, suddenly terrified that the liquid inside it could be used as a potential weapon. “Bet your damn life she’s taken, bitch!”

A’whora’s weighing up the options of apologising more or escalating this into a full-scale brawl (because really, who the fuck does this girl think she’s talking to?) when she feels a hand slip into the crook of her elbow and tug her away from the kitchen, the pint-pot Conor McGregor still yelling at her as she leaves.

“Okay, home time,” Tayce’s voice says, amusement coating her words and only serving to make A’whora feel worse. As she turns to look at her she sees Ellie on her other side, who ducks into the living room as Tayce picks up their jackets from the hooks in the hall.

“Tia wants to stay and keep drinking, think she’s found some of her MT friends here,” Tayce explains, handing A’whora her coat with a little smile. “Ellie’s gone to get Lawrence and Bim. What the bloody hell was that, girl?”

A’whora rolls her eyes petulantly, annoyed that her plan hadn’t exactly been as successful as she’d hoped. “Well, you know what they say. The hot ones are always taken.”

“Not always,” Tayce shrugs at her, a little twinkle in her eye as Ellie reappears with Lawrence on her arm.

“Bim’s gonny stay and look after Tia. They’re staying at Asttina’s tonight, anyway, so they can drop Tia off at ours or Veronica's depending on what she wants to do,” Lawrence explains, only a little unsteady on her feet. “Anyway, what’s this I’m hearing about A’whora being a homewrecker?”

As they leave the party, A’whora reluctantly tells the story and the three of them all laugh and joke in response. If she’s being honest, Tayce finding the whole thing funny isn’t the worst thing to come out of the whole situation. She’s not annoyed or ignoring her, and at least that’s some form of progress, as ridiculous as it seems.

The four of them walk home full of tipsy, carefree joy, Lawrence’s voice bouncing off the buildings in the streets as she sings Rain On Me and the others all join in with Ariana’s whistle tones. They fill the air with their horrendous, off-key yelling and no doubt awaken everyone who’s unfortunate enough to own a flat on the main road, but none of them care.

Lawrence and Ellie’s arms are still linked, the pair of them leaning into each other as they walk, but Tayce hasn’t afforded A’whora the same affection. Which is fine. They’re not what they were now, whatever the hell they had been. They’re friends, but A’whora isn’t sure that label is meant to make it feel as if a broken shard of glass is getting jammed through her heart every time she uses it.

It’s fine.

Their hands still brush against each other every so often as they walk, though, ghosts of moments when they’d hold hands in bed and Tayce would trace around her fingers silently and intimately. The sporadic contact only seems to amplify the electricity that’s already so present in the atmosphere. A’whora thinks back to the party, talking in the kitchen with the girl who was Tayce’s opposite in every way. She doesn’t know if she’s being deluded when she thinks about Tayce being jealous. She hopes she was, though. Really it’s not like she has any right to be; A’whora can do what she wants with who she wants, and if Tayce wanted her to herself then she should have…

Well. A’whora knows what she should’ve done.

If it hadn’t been for Brooke’s tiny pitbull girlfriend coming in and yelling the place down, A’whora would’ve probably tried to kiss her. Not that she wanted to kiss her. Not that she was even really hugely attracted to her like she is to Tayce. But she’s intoxicated by the idea of Tayce watching her kiss someone else and burning up with regret and hurt, wishing it was her in Brooke’s place. But Tayce clearly hasn’t been bothered by the whole thing, A’whora thinks, as they laugh and quote lines from Tracey Beaker at each other while they walk. She’s not acting as if she’s annoyed at A’whora. She’s acting as if...well, as if they’re friends.

Which is what they agreed. A’whora doesn’t know why she expected anything different.

It takes the four of them five goes at inputting the code on the door to their block, yelling in delight when A’whora manages it and then frantically shushing each other as they ascend the echoey stairwell. It’s Tayce who unlocks the door to their flat and they all stumble in, still giggly and laughing.

“Kitchen afterparty?” Tayce suggests as soon as she’s over the threshold. A’whora’s ready to agree. Pathetically, after everything that’s happened, she’d still always agree to more time with Tayce.

Ellie shakes her head though, and as she pushes the door to her own bedroom open Lawrence moves to linger in its doorway too. “Nah. Too tired. You two have fun though.”

“Speaking of you two having fun,” A’whora jokes, pointing her finger at the two girls and wiggling her eyebrows. She dissolves into giggles as Ellie rolls her eyes and Lawrence’s face turns bright pink, happy she’s managed to get her own back for the endless teasing she and Tayce had to go through at the hands of their flatmates.

“Shut up. We’re gonna watch High School Musical 3, Lawrence hasn’t seen it,” Ellie explains, a look passing between the two girls that A’whora’s endlessly suspicious of.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that either! Can I join?” Tayce says lightly, A’whora smirking at her and seeing the twinkle in her eyes as she realises exactly what she’s trying to do. The question gets the desired reaction: Ellie’s eyes shoot wide open and Lawrence’s jaw drops as she tries to think of an explanation as to why Tayce can’t join in their impromptu, cosy movie night.

Tayce puts them out of their misery a second later. “You know what actually, I think I’ll just head to bed too after all.”

The visible relief on the two girls’ faces makes A’whora stifle a laugh, and as they all say goodnight she catches sight of Ellie taking Lawrence’s hand as the door closes. A’whora’s eyes meet Tayce’s as they’re left on their own, both girls laughing softly at the situation.

“Cute. Good for them,” Tayce smiles gently, before looking at the floor bashfully. “You down, then? Kitchen afterparty?”

A’whora’s stomach twists awkwardly. As tempted as she is and as much as she wants to, she feels as if more alcohol would make the current situation worse, and if they’re going to try to be friends then they need to commit to it. So she shakes her head, watches as something shuts down behind Tayce’s eyes. “I’m gonna get some water and then head to bed. Sorry.”

“Water seems like a good idea,” Tayce shrugs, and as A’whora peels off down the corridor towards their kitchen Tayce follows behind her.

Neither of them bother to turn the light on when they get to the kitchen- filling up a glass and taking a few quick sips doesn’t take a long time- and the light from the hall paired with the glow through the window from the streetlamps outside is just enough to ensure A’whora can see what she’s doing as she takes a glass out of the cupboard overhead and fills it up, glugging at it quickly. She can feel Tayce waiting at the sink behind her, but doesn’t turn to make eye contact. The silence is tense and deafening and awkward. Friendship no longer suits them.

So when A’whora turns around from the sink and Tayce is closer to her than she thought with a sparkle in her eyes, she is immediately struck down with all the feelings she’s tried to suppress. Tayce boxes her in, one hand on the edge of the countertop at either side of her, and as she leans in she’s got a little smirk on her face.

“Tayce, wh-”

“Shhh,” Tayce whispers, before leaning in and kissing her, slow and gentle but with an underlying intensity that makes a heat pool in the pit of A’whora’s stomach. She becomes so caught up in the moment that she almost forgets about everything they’d said, everything they vowed they’d stop doing.

So A’whora pulls away, but the needy whine Tayce gives and the way she moves her hands to rest at her waist makes her have second thoughts. She smiles a little, cocks her head to mock her just a tiny bit. “We said we weren’t doing this again.”

Tayce gives another whine, pushes one of her hands a little higher to rest at A’whora’s ribcage. “I know, it’s a really bad idea.”

Tayce drops her head to rest on A’whora’s shoulder, presses light kisses to her neck that are too much and not enough all at once. A’whora hears herself gasp into the kitchen, already equal parts frustrated and desperate.

“You should probably stop kissing my neck, then,” she breathes out, hissing as Tayce’s lips hit a sensitive spot that doesn’t make the situation any better at all.

“You should probably stop acting like you like it so much,” Tayce smiles against her skin, punctuating her sentence with another kiss before adding, “Or else I wouldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, it’s all my fault, isn’t it?" A’whora giggles, looking to the ceiling in exasperation as she already knows how this is going to end.

It’s fun to let Tayce work for it a little, though.

“All your fault, you bad girl,” Tayce murmurs, pulling away from A’whora’s neck and instead keeping her eyes trained on her as she runs her hands up the sides of her thighs and under her skirt. If Tayce is looking for a reaction then she’s got one, because the feeling of Tayce’s fingers against her skin is filling A’whora’s head with all sorts of memories that’re making it even harder to stick to the rules they both set.

“You looked so good tonight,” Tayce murmurs, her eyes cast down to the floor. The praise makes A’whora’s heart race twenty times harder than it already is. She pouts, brings her own hands to rest at Tayce’s hips.

“I was so pretty, wasn’t I?" she teases, not missing the way Tayce’s eyes flutter closed at her words. She decides to twist the knife a little. “Bet you’re so gutted I wasn’t picking my whole outfit out thinking about you. You can’t stand to see me talking to other girls, that’s why you need to corner me in the kitchen to get a reaction, right?”

“Worked though, didn't it?” Tayce smirks, running one finger along the edge of her underwear and sending a shiver down A’whora’s spine. She’s so determined not to let Tayce win whatever game they’re playing though so she takes one hand off her waist, reaches behind her for the glass of water she’d poured that’s still half full.

“Hasn’t worked yet, we’re just talking,” A’whora smiles smugly, sipping from the glass whilst looking Tayce dead in the eye. She gets met with an equally challenging look, one that makes her squeeze her thighs together.

“Yeah, we didn’t make rules against talking,” Tayce says, bringing one of her hands up to brush a little piece of hair out of A’whora’s face and tuck it behind her ear. The contact makes A’whora’s whole body tingle as Tayce continues speaking. “Didn’t make rules against me telling you how much I want to fuck you against this counter and watch you have to try and be quiet.”

“Tayce!” A’whora laughs in shock, at once annoyed and turned on by the smirk that appears on Tayce’s face. She brings her arms up to circle around Tayce’s neck, pulls her a little closer so they’re pressed up against each other.

“Didn’t make rules against me telling you how all night I’ve been thinking about flipping that skirt up and touching you and feeling how wet you are,” Tayce mutters darkly, pushing her knee in between A’whora’s thighs as if to make her point. A’whora can only bite her lip to stop herself from giving a whimper of a response, because Tayce is busy reducing her to a puddle right in the middle of the kitchen and she can’t give her the satisfaction of appearing needier than she already is.

“Or how much I want to tell you exactly what a perfect angel you are while you’re riding my fingers and begging me for it-”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora sighs before Tayce’s lips cut her off and they’re kissing again, messy and hot and desperate and everything A’whora’s wanted for weeks. They can’t be friends when they’re so good like this, when they know just what the other likes and wants and needs, and A’whora needs Tayce so much.

Tayce pulls away only to murmur against A’whora’s lips. “Tell me what you want, babe.”

A’whora pulls back a little, taking a little breath of composure as she tries to form her words. “Want you to do all that. Everything you said.”

She can see she’s said the right thing from the way Tayce paws at her waist and slides a hand up the side of one of her thighs. She gives her a funny sort of smile. “Might need to beg me for it a little bit.”

A’whora pouts involuntarily at her words, moves a hand to cup Tayce’s jaw. “Shouldn’t have to beg when I know how much you want me.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something a spoiled brat would say,” Tayce smirks, leaning against her and pushing her thigh a little higher so that A’whora is pressed right up against it. When A’whora grinds down and Tayce’s eyes grow dark it sends a little thrill of delight down every single nerve ending in her body.

Tayce runs her tongue over her bottom lip before she whispers again. “If I didn’t want you like this so badly I’d take you over to those sofas and spank all this bad behaviour out of you.”

“Yeah, you want to watch me put my pretty little ass in the air for you, don’t you?” A’whora murmurs, squirming against Tayce’s thigh again. She can feel herself throb against her and it feels so good, fucking insanely good, but she hopes Tayce is going to give her what she wants sooner rather than later because she doesn’t want to end up coming just from this.

Tayce pulls her in for a kiss again, more frantic than the last, and as their lips crash together A’whora pushes her hands into Tayce’s hair, tugs on it in the hopes it’ll get a reaction out of her. Tayce gasps against her and it elicits a reaction in A’whora that’s so visceral that she bucks her hips again, the friction making her whine.

“Think you need to start begging or else you’re gonna come and I’m not even gonna get to touch you,” Tayce says as she pulls away, biting her lip and raising her eyebrows triumphantly when A’whora hisses out a fuck .

“Please, Tayce,” she swallows her pride and begs, her fingers playing lightly with the straps of Tayce’s top as she hears her hum in consideration.

“Not sure that’s quite enough begging for making me stand and watch you flirt with another girl at that party. Maybe I could just walk away and watch how you react to having nothing to fuck yourself against at all,” Tayce whispers as A’whora rides her thigh needily, but the tone to her voice tells A’whora she’s not anywhere near serious.

“You like watching me get all wound up way too much to do that.”

“I do,” Tayce leans in, rests her forehead against A’whora’s as she tugs her top up from where it’s tucked into the waistband of her skirt and skims her fingers against her bare skin. “I love watching you get exactly what you want, you look so pretty when you want to come. Hair all messed up and biting your lip like such a perfect little mess.”

A’whora feels her stomach flip over and the heat grow between her legs as she begins to get worn down. Her hands drop down to grab Tayce’s ass through her jeans, tries to pull her closer even though there's already hardly any distance between them. “Please, Tayce, want you so much.”

“Just wanna make my princess feel so good,” Tayce pouts mockingly, and it’s almost sinful enough to make A’whora disregard the “my” that Tayce drops in the middle of her sentence. It hurts A’whora’s feelings more than she’d care to admit, so as revenge she gives a self-indulgent shudder against Tayce’s thigh, lets out a moan that’s too loud and makes Tayce’s eyes grow wide.

“The girls are gonna hear,” Tayce warns her, leaning in for three short kisses which she clearly delights in pulling away from each time.

At this point A’whora thinks she’s being driven slowly insane and so she finally lets her pride crumble to the ground, well and truly demolished as she gives a desperate whine. “Fuck, please , baby, please, please, please, need you so much, please.”

Tayce smirks at her triumphantly and tilts her head. “There. That wasn't hard, was it?”

It’s then that A’whora breaks. As she loops her finger around the velvet choker Tayce is wearing and crashes their lips together again she only breaks the kiss to hop up onto the counter, spreading her legs wide and feeling a flutter of anticipation between them as Tayce immediately gets to work, gently trailing her fingers up the inside of her thighs and making A’whora’s mouth drop open. She tugs her lace underwear down so it’s sitting at her knees, rips her top and her bra off and brushes her fingers over her nipples, presses hot, wet open-mouthed kisses over what feels like every inch of bare skin. A’whora is such a panting, incoherent mess that she almost doesn’t notice that Tayce has stepped back a little. When she opens her eyes she can see her sweeping a long, slow glance down her body, her pupils blown and her jaw slack.

“You are a fucking miracle ,” she gasps in awe, and A’whora immediately feels herself growing shy, Tayce’s words making her feel more naked than the fact she’s sitting on their kitchen counter half-dressed. Tayce seems to grow a little reserved as well, maybe picking up on the reaction A’whora’s given her, and when she leans in to kiss her again it’s slow and languid in the same way that honey falls from a spoon.

There’s a pause in the kiss where Tayce hooks her fingers over the waistband of A’whora’s underwear and pulls it off of her completely, leaving her free to trail her fingers up the soft skin on the inside of A’whora’s thigh and make her buck against thin air helplessly. Tayce fans her fingers against her thigh and lazily swipes a thumb over A’whora’s slit, the moan of relief A’whora lets out and the little gasp Tayce gives piercing through the quiet of the kitchen.

“So wet for me,” Tayce breathes out all at once, dropping her lips to her neck and kissing her. There’s a second where she bites and sucks at her skin, making A’whora gasp and giggle guiltily and squirm against her touch. Tayce’s lips are hot against her skin as she continues. “I would be on my fucking knees if I didn’t want to look at your gorgeous face the whole time.”

“Tayce, please,” A’whora begs, bouncing a little on the countertop as she desperately and wordlessly tries to get Tayce’s thumb to circle her clit. She suspects Tayce is being deliberate with the contact; she knows if she holds back then A’whora will just start begging her desperately like she did before.

The little smirk that appears on her face confirms her suspicions. “What is it, baby?”

A’whora grinds down but Tayce only flicks her thumb away, the frustration she feels and the way she’s practically aching in response turning Tayce’s little playful smile into a shit-eating grin. A’whora feels her bottom lip stick itself out and she whines needily. “You know what.”

“Aww. You not able to use your words any more, princess?” Tayce pouts mockingly back at her, and in response A’whora brings her hands up under the hem of Tayce’s top and skates her nails down her back. It seems to have the desired reaction as Tayce pulls her hand away for a second, A’whora subsequently drawing in a deep, shaky breath as she feels Tayce’s fingers slide deep inside her, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clit and leaving her feeling so overwhelmed that she tips her head forward to rest on Tayce’s shoulder.

“Fuck, so good,” she whispers, shuddery and breathy against Tayce's neck as she rides her fingers. Going from minimal teasing to having her every need met all at once is rendering her almost speechless but as she straightens up she finds she wants to keep talking if only to see the way Tayce blinks slowly and heavily as she collects herself, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she watches A’whora become more and more wound up. “So perfect, keep going...fuck…”

“God, I wish you could see what you look like right now,” Tayce hisses, curling her fingers and managing to hit a spot that makes A’whora squeeze her eyes shut and bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from squealing in ecstasy. She keeps her eyes closed as Tayce keeps talking to her, every word making her melt and only intensifying the waves of bliss that are racking her body. “You’re so beautiful, Aurora, oh my God, so, so, so gorgeous...perfect fucking angel…”

A’whora presses a frantic hand to Tayce’s jaw and pulls her in to kiss her again, but they’re unable to make it last all that long when they’re both breathing so heavily and A’whora is rocking so much against Tayce’s fingers it makes her momentarily wonder about how sturdy the countertops in their shithole of a flat actually are. It’s at the point now where A’whora is feeling so soaking wet and overstimulated that she can’t even form a single thought apart from just fuck , so how she manages to form a sentence Christ only knows.

“Missed getting me like this?”

“Like what, baby, a dripping wet desperate mess?” Tayce’s free hand grips her thigh just that little bit tighter in response. “Missed it so fucking much.”

Her words make A’whora shiver with lust, and something inside her curls like a tightly wound spring. She can feel her orgasm building with every passing second but there’s something different about how it usually feels; it’s all far more intense and all-consuming than normal as if every single one of her nerve endings are buzzing in anticipation. She’s completely incapable of speech now, only breathy little moans and needy whines as Tayce keeps whispering into her ear about how perfect she is, how pretty and gorgeous and beautiful, all the while fucking her gently and pulsing her fingers against that spot deep inside her and teasing her clit.

It’s because of her lack of words that A’whora can’t give Tayce much of a warning when suddenly her body seems to leap two levels at once and she’s so dangerously close that all she can do is urgently whisper Tayce’s name before her moans get increasingly louder and louder, her orgasm rips through her, and she swears she comes harder than she’s ever done before in her life. Everything is throbbing so violently that all A’whora can do is let out broken cries into the silent kitchen, completely unable to care about who could hear her. Her orgasm seems to last a few seconds longer than usual and it takes her by surprise, and her body is so racked from it that she needs a couple of seconds to compose herself. She breathes raggedly with her forehead against Tayce’s shoulder, and she can feel the other girl rubbing her back gently with her free hand.

It’s Tayce who speaks first, her voice humoured as she whispers quietly into the silence and slides her fingers out of her slowly and carefully. “Fuckin’ hell, girl. I could feel that.”

A’whora has to take two little breaths before she lifts her head off Tayce’s shoulder and replies with the only word she can form. “Shit.”

Tayce giggles, and it’s so endearing that A’whora feels her heart swell with affection and maybe a little something deeper. She’s barely got time to dwell on it before Tayce locks eyes with her, a little sparkle in them as she takes the same two fingers she’d fucked A’whora with seconds ago and wraps her lips around them, sucking them into her mouth before drawing them out and letting her eyes flutter closed. “You taste so good, fuck.”

At that point, A’whora could've just stayed silent. Or responded with something else. Or just pulled Tayce in for another kiss before returning the favour. But no- she has to ruin it by opening her mouth and saying the first thing that comes into her head, a stupid joke that’s only going to hurt her instead of make her laugh.

“I don’t think that’s something that friends do.”

Tayce’s expression falters and her palms come to rest on A’whora’s thighs. Her gaze is fixed on the floor and there's a small pause before she replies quietly. “Well maybe I don’t want to be friends.”

Every cell in A’whora’s body freezes up and she’s rendered almost motionless at Tayce’s response. She doesn’t even care about how desperate she comes across as she replies almost breathlessly. “What do you want, then?”

Tayce doesn’t meet her eyes. The seconds tick by. Her palms slip off A’whora’s thighs and come to rest at her sides.

“Tayce?”

Tayce takes a step back, casts her gaze to the ceiling this time. She seems to be looking everywhere but at her. A’whora watches her press her lips together, bring her arms up to wrap herself in a hug. The silence grows longer and more ominous, storm clouds hanging over the two of them that are heavy with rain.

And then it dawns on A’whora that what Tayce must be feeling is all-encompassing regret. She regrets it all. Everything she said, everything they just did. She’s dug herself into a hole that she can’t escape from.

So A’whora helps her out of it. The tears flood her eyes as she hops down from the kitchen counter, snatches up her clothes with her face burning from embarrassment, and her hot tears run down her face almost as fast as she dashes back to her room. She’s completely humiliated, and she’s not going to stick around to talk things out.

Tayce doesn’t yell after her, doesn’t come back down the corridor for her, doesn’t stand at her door and knock and ask to be let in. Instead there is only silence and darkness, and all A’whora can do is lie down on her bed and sob into her pillow, trying her hardest not to make a sound but wondering if she's failing even at that.

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

Text

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart.

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out.

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway.

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

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theelliottsmiths · 5 years ago

Note

Can you liveblog the Mein Teil making of? Thank you!!

How many of these were from the same person? It doesn't matter but it is funny

Okay Mein Teil Making of liveblog

Sidenote I once rated all their performances if that interests you

I will try not to mention Zoran

Till looks good with that face distortion somehow

I was obsessed with the story of Armin Meiwes as a young teen. It's fascinating, and so easy to reason yourself into not thinking he really did anything wrong once you learn it was done with consent and the consent was key (when others before Brandes met up with him to mess around and turned him down he didn't push it because the willingness was super important to the whole point etc). I'm not. That's not me saying I approve.

Have you noticed that pretty much all of the stuff people don't like morally about this video (the slapping and blowjob, primarily) don't properly make it into the video? They aren't in it enough for it to actually have been necessary. The slapping is so choppy that there was no reason to actually hit him at all.

"This song is very homoerotic" and then he gets a woman to do the Lustful Acts with Till? Shameful. Cowardice.

Jonas would be Disgusted

The little ja from Till is very cute though.

Also? Porn AU

Till looks so nervous

Zoran please stop stroking her. We know you were excited and couldn't sleep please keep it to yourself.

I can never decide if I like this denim jacket on Richard. It looks silly especially with the collar doing that but it's just so cute

And he's a sweetheart his lisp is so strong here

I'm not even watching the slapping it's so unnecessary and he's crying a tiny bit and Zoran is being so odd about watching it back

Paul seeing his costume and thinking no this isn't good enough and fixing it is such a Paul thing to do. He wasn't wrong.

I hope he bought her some more of the makeup

Something about Richard being picked up and manhandled like a mannequin in a Primark kills me but also... :)

I think I know why he did wrestling as a teen

Genuinely I am not even going after Zoran for the usual stuff I just on an artistic level do not understand why we needed Tills scenes to be this soggy attempt at sex and violence it's genuinely, through no fault of his or her own, the worst segment in the entire video. It just... Abandons the disconnected dissociative feeling of the rest of it and has him doing whatever gets a certain persons rocks off

They should have stuck with the collar and distortion it was... Very nice

I'm not gonna say it but I do not agree morally

Is that a clove

You know, I've always wondered why Richard didn't smoke cloves. He smokes those American spirit yellow ones now For Health (presumably) but cloves do fit the aesthetic he's going for during working hours

He just watched till get and presumably give a blowjob, lit up a cigarette, and is talking in breathy tones you cannot tell me he wasn't getting off on it

"it was very important we were alone for this blowjob that barely even makes it into the video"

Unlike all the other directors the way he goes about his crush is not very good it's quite bad actually

Paul and Oli both having their scenes based in Japanese dance styles is interesting and I do think that was a good move

That one bit of his hair sticking up fuck how does he never escape looking silly?

Don't care for the spit fountain

Why does he say stop complaining in English when the guy was speaking in German does it just have a better vibe?

It's very cute either way I like Richards flirting concentration faces. You can hear him go hhhhh as he looks at the guy just before they turn to compare. And the camp little hands when they turn back also

Paul does some good faces huh

"I didn't have to change my ways, I just did things the way I normally do them"

As in all of their videos, only a few may look good at once. Today is Richard and Schneiders turn, with Till and Flake also looking Pretty Good.

The way Richard is looking at Zoran is so full of what now registers as distaste

Zoran is right here about it being brave for them to have put themselves out there like that and I will allow him some space to be wanky about art because they're the ones doing it. The fact he/it focuses on Schneider in a way that makes me crave an autobiography from schneider/all of them because clearly there's a Something there beyond him just being very androgynous and therefore suited

What he stole from us by giving Till a female angel he made up for with Richard's whole wrestling thing. Entangled. Homoerotic.

Schneider does an incredibly Till face when he's checking the blouse

I'd love to know how consciously connected to this whole thing growing his hair out was

Maybe Richard... Should do more wrestling

Richard and his double kissed but that footage was not left in the final video. Zoran strikes again.

The ja is so cute Why did Richard and Till both do a similar and very cute Ja in this video?

Schneider this entire video:

He's sure he won't be doing much, just be a bit more woman. Given the way Rammstein tends to portray women... Yeah I mean. Yeah.

I would like the full uncut footage of Schneider and Richards parts for uh it's for a project it's super secret you won't have heard if it but I do need that footage.

What happened fifteen years ago, Richard?

Poor baby :(

Zoran still creeping behind the camera

Thighs

Maybe Zoran and I aren't so different unfortunately

I would have loved to see how schneider and the others reacted upon seeing his part

One of them he was tucked so naturally...

How did they act when they saw him on his back legs akimbo I have got to know

He's so bashful

I'm sure they've seen it before

The eye contact.

He is so tickled

Oli is very much acting as if nothing is wrong, maybe to a greater degree than how he is usually

Olis control over his own body really sells his whole performance it almost makes me not detest the toe thing

Paul is complaining and wishing to Influence again and I understand this impulse well

Was Sweden particularly bad for that?

He suits his hair long and down like that

Flakes eye-smile gave it away but everything he says in this is just my favourite

He makes eye contact with the camera just after the dude says chimeras and oh.

I hope he understands that he is incredibly pretty. That's why he's a ballerina I have to assume

"it's rare to dance with as much commitment as I did" I will drop to one knee and hold out a ring do not try me flake

Zoran is doing that thing directors do where he's trying to justify something he chose for purely horny reasons. Ask Jonas about the tongues I'm sure a lot of artistry is involved

I'm being uncharitable it is an overarching theme and I am the one giving the mud fight that significance

But I mean come on now, the mud fighting.

Till is talking so softly is he okay

Is there any better feeling than hearing them talk about how they're getting on better as a group than ever? I think no.

Schneider is me watching the mud fighting

Richard and Tills little bits of fighting you can catch here and there are especially good and I just. Look. Listen. Look and listen. They should wrestle each other for a video for Let's Go. They fight and wrestle and then...

I love this living song metaphorical soup coming from Paul

Richard so gently pinning flake down...........

As a drummer, I simply refused

Insert the quote and out the original Feeling b drummer being incapable of doing anything if it was good

Oli genuinely seemed more comfortable almost naked and covered in make up which actually makes total sense in general and for him huh

The way Till shakes his hair out like a dog kills me it's second nature to him look at him go

I want them to watch the making ofs for Mein Teil and Keine Lust and react to them because a lot of what they're saying is pretty much what they've been saying over the past couple of years about the new album.

Flake is Helping Richard. Flake in

Okay no see so have you watched the video for All the Things She Said/Ya Soshla s Uma by tatu? Or like that fuckinn that one Tom Holland thing where he's in the rain being slutty or whatever?

This isn't wrestling this is wrestling. And very tender.

They're so much more gentle with their wrestling than I feel most people would assume they'd be? Or I just think that because I have siblings and there is no holding back when you first fight those fools.

Puppies!

That kiss sure was awkward huh

Mein Teil is a very good video and making of if you remove Till's main part and Zoran being unnerving.

#hündchen #Rammstein #liveblog #me rambling #complete liveblog

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dxmedstudent · 5 years ago

Text

Got lured onto twitter to support BLM and afterwards got embroiled in conversation over the UK’s #sexban. I’m tired of twitter, and it’s hard to express yourself in a few characters, so I thought I’d share some thoughts here. Which is really just the tories declaring outright that sex between people living in two households is now illegal and punishable with a £50 fine. Given that households haven’t been allowed to mix, you’re nto allowed into anyone’s house and the 2m rule still applies, it was always ‘banned’ - those of us in that situation were already aware of our obligations. FWIW I’ve followed every recommendation before and after lockdown, because I’m a doctor and I want to decrease ANY spread as much as possible, until things are relaxed enough that our meeting isn’t a particularly big risk to others in the context of what’s going on. It’s not fun, and it kind of feels like the govt forgets people like you when its revising its plans and opening Primarks, but you think of the patients, and you continue. But this law in particular pissed me off today. It was already covered in existing rules - so why explicitly banning sex? What message are they trying to send? That they have no intention to ease the lockdown on our personal lives any time soon? How are they going to enforce the fine? Are we going to turn every time a lockdown rule is broken into something we fine people for, and will that just make people see it as something minor if they can afford the fine? Obviously, we have to have a cut-off somewhere. We have to try to decrease transmissibility where we can. And for the most part the initial rules seemed fairly sensible. But telling people they can’t be intimate with 1 person, but they can have a barbecue with 6, go shopping, watch footballers touch each other, and travel to work and sit with colleagues feels like the rules are arbitrary and not particularly fair. Weirdly I’ve been roped into twitter conversation with some ex-immunology researcher re: the fact that covid viral RNA has been found in semen say 14 days after infection. And that apparently this therefore means the policy isn’t arbitrary and it isn’t prioritising the economy over personal lives. I have to disagree. They argue that this is about sexual transmissibility, but I disagree. The thing is, this isn’t really about transmissibility. We don’t know enough about when covid stops being transmissible. We don’t know if a negative test means you can’t transmit it any more. I welcome any research that helps us gauge risk and know more about how we can stop spreading the virus. But we don’t know what kind of viral load allows for infection via different routes. How can we separate the risk from PIV (etc) transmission from a recently infected person from the risks of them spreading it through aerosolised droplets? Now, when I was sick, I was allowed back to work with vulnerable patients after 8 days, despite my OH consultant being clear that we’re not really sure how long people are infectious for, and the government recommendations appear to be arbitrary. Other places recommend 14 days. Clearly we have to say at some point that people are allowed out, and that their risk of transmission has at some point. But a rule telling me that I can go back to work after 7 days with a cough, but can’t have sex with my BF (in case - what? one of us is an asymptomatic suffer and less than 14 days after infection?) is not based on evidence, and it does, from the outside appear rather arbitrary. I was concerned to go back to work. I’m still concerned about how many people have been rushed back to work. I’m concerned over how people who’ve been exposed in the community are meant to self isolate, but HCW aren’t even tested unless we show symptoms - imagine all the asymptomatic spread. This isn’t about whether some of us go a bit longer without sex (frankly, it’s barely about the sex at all), it’s about how inconsistent the rules are, and how the government apply the letter of the law in cases where the risk is low and yet allow people who were shielding out, and force them back to work where they may not be adequately protected. Because I guess even if you’re asymptomatic you need to never have sex EVER just in case you spread infection. But is it really more likely to be from uh... mixing genital fluids, or from coughing in each other’s faces? And why can’t the answer simply be to use a condom if we’re worried about fluids? But only if you’re in different households. Those in the same household have never been advised not to have sex, though they have been advised to isolate themselves if possible, if they are sick. But in general the rules allow people within the same household to live normally. They accept that people in the same household will likely get infected -though in reality they shouldn’t cos it’s not 100%. Imagine if we told everyone in the same household ‘well, there’s a chance you might not pass it to each other, so can all of you sit 2m apart and not touch’?. That’d probably reduce infections too, by a certain number, but it’d be pretty unpopular and hard to enforce. But if we’re going to pretend this is about sexual transmissibility ... sexual health policy has never been “don’t have sex” - not in the longterm. That’s not how we treat people with HIV or any other communicable disease - we tell people to use protection and get tested. We try to manage risk as much as possible. And as our planning reaches more chronic stages, we’re going to have take much more advice from those who’ve been managing infectious illness, particularly in the context of people’s intimate lives, for a hell of a lot longer than we have. Your sexual health colleagues can tell you how to engage people with infection prevention, how to avoid marginalising people like sex workers (anyone remember them? yep, they sill exist and still need to survive). This bugs me not only cos it’s a bit of a personal fuck you to couples in my position who’ve been following the rules from the start, but also because it’s not based on sexual health practice. All the recommendations have to be based on some kind of risk assessment -the 2m rule. How many households you can mix with. Whether going to someone else’s garden is safe. Everything we allow - even shopping, even accepting a takeaway - has some kind of risk - it may be low, but it is not zero. I’m worried that the government has given the message that it’s perfectly safe to go back to work (it’s not, commuting and social distancing still carries risk) or shop and do other outdoor activities (again, still some risk) or send kids to school (even if the kids don’t have conditions, their teachers or parents may be at risk!). They’ve relaxed a lot of rules all at once. I’m terrified for the vulnerable. I’ll socially distance for as long as I have to if it keeps people safe, but I have real concerns about how they’ve gone about relaxing things, and there are a lot of reports about people not following social distancing advice. After all the relaxed rules, and with the Cummings debacle, there’s a danger that people will all think the rules no longer really apply. What annoys me is that they appear to be inconsistent and arbitrary. And I no longer have any faith that the government is makng decisions based on scientific advice, and risk stratifying appropriately. I honestly think they are making much riskier decisions in order to open the economy, and then nominally keeping lockdown in ways that only limit social contact in small but meaningful ways because that’s not the economy.

#covid-19

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sonipanda · 5 years ago

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Well I am certainly happy to have this brand back in my life to do another review on. It has been quite some time, and I have to say this brand is not bad at all in terms of quality. I won’t give away too much now so get scrolling loves!

Now this is gonna bug me, but let me just tell you these are not holdups – they are stockings which require a belt. I do not know why they state the as holdups

To see my previous reviews on Antie, hit the links below (opens in a new tab):

Antie 60D Microfiber Tights

Antie Tullia Mock Stockings

The Spec

Colour: Fuchsia

Size: 2 / Small

Denier: 20

Materials: 86% Polyamide, 14% Elastane

Price: £5.99

Website: Amazon – Antie 20 DEN Patterned Hold-up Stockings G4051

My Outfit

I decided to go a little feminine but a little more laid back. It’s super easy to pop on some heels, but from time to time, it does make a nice change to be in flats for once. I thought this would be a great outfit for those warmer days when you’re out and about.

My Deets

Dress: H&M

Holdups: Antie

Pumps: Primark

The Review

From The Website: Luxurious stocking with an intricate pattern on the upper part for strengthening. Effectively attracts attention with the print on the back which resembles seams. The thickness of 20 DEN makes the stockings thin and transparent. However the use of the special sewing process made with braided fabric gives them a superior strength. Invisible toe strengthening make it successful when wearing with outdoor shoes.

Colours displayed may vary slightly from depictions on the monitor due to screen differences.

Material Composition: 86% Polyamide, 14% Elastane

The Packaging: so we are working with simple yet bold packaging. I like how the pink pops out at the top of the packaging. The front states the brand, the size and colour of the pair inside. There isn’t much to see when you flip the packaging over.

When you get in, you will find these in plastic wrapped around plain card and folded so there is no foot or leg shaping.

Getting Them On:

youtube

On The Legs: let’s start off with the colour, as it is so gorgeous! I have done something a little similar, but these are just stunning and certainly a favourite. This is my type of pink for sure, and it works perfectly with casual outfits. Of course you can dress them up for work and occasions before I get any comments heading my way, but this makes a nice change in my eyes.

The design I am crushing over; that backseam isn’t your average at all. I love how it works from this intricate heel and ends up into an even more intricate welt piece.

The quality of these are decent; they hugs the legs well, there is enough stretch in them for me to sit them higher than normal and they don’t damage easily. I have been in them all day and not one snag has appeared, let alone a rip. I am super happy!

The fit of these are true to size, so I would make sure you check out the sizing guide. They hug the legs so well, so there is no gapping at all. I also mentioned there is enough stretch to them; this means I can sit them higher up the thigh if I wanted to.

The feel of them are smooth and lovely. They don’t irritate the legs and they just glide on and off. They are a lovely pair.

The Toes & Ankle: so the downfall here is there is no reinforced toes! Sad times I know, but what can we do? I suppose keeping nails short and smooth will help, like I did with mine. I had plenty of wiggle room for my toes and o pressure was added either.

Around the feet and ankles, it’s a lovely smooth finish.

One thing I will mention is that gorgeous heel design which leads into a backseam. There is no sole panel to these, so just a heel piece on its own is something different!

The Bands: the welt itself is pretty slim, to the point it was hard to try and not clasp onto the lace design. I had to make sure they sat in their right place before I could move.

Nonetheless, can we appreciate this deep, thick intricate lace design which the backseam falls into? I haven’t seen this before, and I gotta say I love it. It make a change from a thick welt with the design, and I am totally here for it!

The welt holds up well and I had no issues with it falling down or with the size. They fit the thigh so well and they stretch out as much as they need to, so you get a comfortable fit on the thighs.

My Thoughts?

I would happily recommend these. I love how the colour look on the legs, the quality is great and they have been a joy to work with today. I am super happy with this pair!

Antie Patterned Hold-Ups (Fuchsia) Well I am certainly happy to have this brand back in my life to do another review on.

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theshrubbery · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5 of my fic :)

Chapter summary:

My father is shouting something, I feel like I should be listening to him, but all I can focus on is how beautiful Simon is. He’s fucking gorgeous and it’s breaking my heart. I love him so much that I can’t breathe, my chest is constricting and it’s all I can do not to lean back into him, let him swallow me whole.

SIMON

I didn’t mean to rifle through Baz’s personal things like this. I didn’t even know they were personal until I noticed how worn the newspaper clippings were, how thin the paper of the photo had become. It was a photo of a tall, beautiful woman holding a small Baz in her arms, both of them are smiling, standing in front of a window—I notice Baz’s father, Malcolm, in the reflection. One corner of his smile is peeking out from the side of the camera, which is held high, right to his face, as he squints through the viewfinder.

I’d shared a room with Baz for long enough to know that his mum had died, though I’d never really thought much of it. I realise that makes me sound like something of a complete asshole, but this is, of course, coming from an orphan.

Honestly, though, I’d been looking for some clothes to wear. I was too scared to go back to my room to fetch my bag full of my own clothes. I’d ditched them in my escape out of that fucking freak-hole, and I sure as shit wasn’t going back for them. As much as I hate the idea of borrowing Baz’s clothes (again) I hate the idea of going back to that room even more. So, naturally, I’d started looking through his wardrobe for something that didn’t look like it was over a bajillion pounds. Something more Primark, less… whatever expensive brands these silk shirts were.

For some reason, I’d figured that Baz must have just been keeping all his fancy shit out to show off. Most people would do that, I figured, and Baz definitely seemed the type to try and keep up his pretentious image like that, so I got up on my tip-toes and started to rummage around the top shelves, pushing a neatly folded pile of jumpers out of the way until I accidentally found the shoebox. Might I add that it was a very expensive branded shoebox, too.

Inside were the articles I’m sitting holding now: the newspaper clippings of Baz’s mum’s death. The newspaper clippings of Baz’s childhood kidnapping that I’ve never heard a fucking thing about. What the fuck?

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Baz’s voice sends a cold shock straight through me. My stomach drops through the floor, a sense of dread pouring like cement into my chest cavity. I’m holding the photograph when Baz opens the door. The one of he and his mum; he strides forwards and snatches it straight from me before I can think to surrender it of my own accord. I look up at him.

Baz is seething. In all the years I’ve known Baz, never have I seen him look so genuinely terrifying. It makes me wonder whether I’ve actually ever seen him mad.

“I’m sorry,” I say. But I say it too quickly, it sucks the genuineness out and leaves it empty, bland. I can’t help but curse myself, internally, there’s no way out of this one.

“For a genius you sure are thick,” Baz spits, shoving me hard in the shoulder as he gathers the clippings back into the box and holds them tightly to his chest. He gets to his feet and glares down at me, like he isn’t sure what to do next and doesn’t want me to know.

“You were kidnapped,” I say. Baz flinches. “You were kidnapped by your mum’s killers.”

Baz’s jaw tightens, his thick eyebrows lowering even further, casting shadows over his eyes. He’s scowling so tightly his lips are starting to whiten.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I try again, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m still going with this. It’s clear that Baz doesn’t want to talk about it, that he’s enraged I ever looked through his stuff without permission in the first place, but I guess now that the can of worms is open…

“Baz!” Mordelia shouts up the stairs. I can hear Malcolm trying to quiet her, but she shouts again anyways, reminding us that there’s breakfast to be had, a relationship to fake.

“I can’t believe you,” Baz snarls under his breath, and somehow his disappointment is an even sharper spear to the stomach than his anger. “I can’t believe you.”

“Baz, please, I really am sorry.”

“Just shut the fuck up, Snow, I don’t want to hear it.” Baz pushes a hand through his hair, pulling at it when he gets to the back of his head, then he forces a violent sigh through his teeth and throws his hand away from his scalp, slapping it against his thigh. He gives me this look, and it scalds me, like he expected more from me. What I don’t understand is why would he? It’s not like we’ve ever really been friends.

Baz turns away from me and takes a deep breath. “Let’s just go down to breakfast.”

“Right,” I say quietly, feeling like I really don’t have the right to talk at all.

“Come on, Snow. We’ll discuss this later but for now, don’t fuck this up for me too.” I don’t need to ask him what he means, I already know he means pretending to be his boyfriend. I feel like I owe him, I feel guilty, so on the way down the stairs, after Baz has (literally) thrown me some clothes to change into, I psyche myself up, and I grab his hand.

Baz freezes, stumbles, nearly misses a step, then rights himself and tentatively pushes his fingers through the spaces in my own, interlocking our hands. It’s strange, I think, how effortless it is to do this, how easy it is to pretend we’re a couple.

Malcolm looks down his nose at us, standing at the bottom of the stairs as we descend. I can’t see Baz’s face, but I really can’t imagine it would look much better. Baz’s hand tightens in mine and he pulls me closer to his body as his father’s eyes rake over me. Then, Mordelia comes bounding around the corner again, obviously over-exited at all the happenings. She probably doesn’t see many visitors inside the house.

“Cute!” She exclaims, her eyes ogling our joined hands. Malcolm swallows, as though he’s physically withholding himself from making some sort of derogatory comment.

“Enough, Mordelia, go back to the table,” Malcolm tells her, gently pressing his hand into her tiny shoulder and sending her away. He’s acting as though whatever me and Baz are, whatever we have, is infectious. It’s nothing short of frustrating. Really, it’s a lot more than frustrating, it’s disgusting, but this isn’t my place to say anything, not yet anyways. “Baz, you and… your friend will join us.” Malcolm’s voice curls around the word ‘friend’, wrapping it in sneeringly impolite undertones. It’s making me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Luckily, even though Baz and I aren’t really seeing eye-to-eye right now, he doesn’t just stand there and let his father pick at me.

“He has a name. And you know he is more than a friend,” Baz’s voice is flat, empty, but I can still make out the simmer in it that tells me he’s trying to keep his cool. “Just because you’re my father, it doesn’t give you the right to treat Simon this way.”

“Basilton,” Malcolm snaps. “You really need to rethink your position in this family, rethink your rank, your status, are you really going to throw that all away to gallivant around with this boy?”

Baz steps down a couple more steps, and I unwillingly follow. Not that I have a choice with how his sweaty hand has mine in a death-clamp. I’m not sure whether he even remembers he’s holding it.

“And what if I am?” Baz challenges. He’s already tall, but standing as he is, a few steps higher than his father, puts him inches above eye-level and forces Malcolm to look up at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The sooner you give this whole thing up, the better, it’s clear what you’re doing here, Basil.” My heart starts thudding just a little harder at the implications. Has Malcolm figured us out already? Am I really that bad at this whole dating thing? Baz gave me one job, granted I hate him, but letting people down once I’ve committed to a promise really isn’t something I like to do. It feels like a failure on my part.

“What are you talking about?” Baz demands. I can see his pulse in the hollow of his throat. I’m two steps above Baz and I slowly lower myself down one until I’m directly behind him, so close I can feel the heat from his body.

“You’re an idiot if you think I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Basilton. You honestly expect me to believe that straight after our conversation you’d reveal to be dating the one boy you’ve hated since first year? It’s clear to me you’re just trying to prove a point, and the act is up. So drop it.”

“You’re wrong, father.” Baz squeezes my hand. I look down at his whitening knuckles and then up to his clenching jaw, which I can just about see from this angle. I look to Malcolm and it irks me how fucking confident he is that he’s won this. Baz and I don’t convince him at all, even if he has only had one dinner to form his opinion of us.

“The act is up,” Malcolm repeats. “Basilton, come to your senses. Just stop this foolishness, it is, frankly, embarrassing.” I hear the hitch in Baz’s breath that he can’t quite cover in time. There’s a splotchy red flush of colour blooming in ugly flowers across his cheeks, down his neck, his chest, where I can see a bronze ‘v’ of skin between the fabric of his button-down shirt.

My ears feel kind of like they’re ringing, I feel a little like I can’t see properly, like I’m standing on the other side of a glass window looking in on my own life. It’s strange. I feel like I’m floating, weightless and unreal.

In hindsight, my body probably knew what I was going to do next before my brain caught up with it. The chemicals surging in my brain, the adrenaline trembling through my veins, it was all because of a subconscious thought that hadn’t quite reached the forefront of my mind yet.

Unsure of what I’m doing, I pull at Baz’s hand, turn him at an angle, use his momentary surprise to tilt his head towards mine with my other hand, cradling his jaw for what feels like an eternity. I’m not looking at his eyes, but his parted lips.

And then, I kiss him.

BAZ

He’s kissing me. Simon Snow is kissing me. I feel dizzy, lightheaded, I feel like melting. I haven’t ever been kissed before, I wonder if Snow knows that this is my first, wonder if he can feel the same fireworks that I can. My heart is pounding when we pull gently away. He doesn’t jerk back with the disgust I’d have expected from Snow, I’m sure it must’ve sunk in that he’s pretending to be in a relationship with a gay man by now. I never imagined that Snow would ever willingly kiss me and look as dazed as he does right now. His eyes are glazed, his lips are flushed pink, his cheeks on fire, his pulse pounding in the column of his golden throat, the freckled skin fluttering.

My father is shouting something, I’m vaguely aware of him storming away and I feel like I should be listening to him, but all I can focus on is how beautiful Simon is. He’s fucking gorgeous and it’s breaking my heart. I love him so much that I can’t breathe, my chest is constricting and it’s all I can do not to lean back into him, let him swallow me whole.

Snow is looking at me, I am looking at Snow, neither of us know what to do now. My father distantly tells us to get down to the dining room at once, he sounds disgusted, he probably thinks we’re disgusting and I just don’t care. Simon Snow just kissed me. Snow’s eyes widen, his head jars back suddenly, and I can’t help the jolt in my stomach, I knew it was too good to be true. He doesn’t say anything though, not for what feels like an eternity. He just stands and stares, his hand sweating where it’s still holding my jaw. I want to push my face into his hand and breathe him in, but I can’t. I can’t, and it’s killing me.

“I—Sorry, that was—that was too much,” Snow stutters. Nausea is swirling unpleasantly in my gut. There it is. The rejection. Though… does that really count as rejection when he’s the one who initiated it in the first place? Snow looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t know what he should do now, and I decide to put him out of his misery.

“It’s fine, Snow, I get it,” I tell him, forcing my voice to stay level. Forcing myself not to allow the thickness in my throat to constrict my words. I can’t scare Snow off, not now. “You’re… doing well, my father will have no choice but to believe us now.”

“I just—how could he say those things to you? It was—I didn’t think—I just—” I hold up a hand to stop him. He must really be feeling quite turbulent if he’s stuttering over his words like this, it’s been a long while since he stumbled over each word like a hurdle in this way.

“We don’t need to talk about this, I understand, Snow. We can discuss things later.”

There is an awful lot we need to talk about later.

Breakfast was so tense I was half positive Snow was about to get up and run. He scoffed his food like he always does, though I think he was just nervous. Mordelia wouldn’t shut up, asking us all sorts of questions as to the status of our relationship. In the end Malcolm had snapped at her to be quiet, something he very rarely did. Daphne took her away from the table as soon as she could, taking the rest of the kids with her too with the help of two maids. When Snow and I had arrived, the house had been empty, but in the mean time Daphne had returned with Mordelia and all my other siblings. I love them, I do, but I don’t feel like I can handle all the attention at the moment. Though I don’t let anyone into this, I can’t, my mother taught me better than to lose my composure.

So I remained composed, dignified, ate my breakfast, reprimanded Snow on his eating habits just to reassure him that I wasn’t mad at him. Not for kissing me, not for finding out everything I never wanted anyone to know. My father didn’t make any more remarks, in honesty he tried not to look at us, I’m not sure what I want from him—other than acceptance of course. It hurts to have my father treat me this way. It hurts to feel like a disappointment for something that I can’t control. It’s even worse knowing that he still loves me, I know that he does, he’s always done everything he can for me its just… he cannot stand me being attracted to other men. He’s always ignored it, probably in hopes that it’s just a phase. But it isn’t, it never was, and it never will be. I have no idea if he’ll ever stop letting this be a wedge between us.

“What are—what are we doing today then, Baz?” Snow asks me after breakfast. We’re the last ones at the table, father has excused himself to work and I’m grateful I can drop my ramrod posture, if only a little. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead when I invited Snow here. Usually I would spend the holiday studying, attending formals with my father, counting down until I could go back to school. Snow has always stayed at Watford over the holidays, I’ve always speculated over what he spent his time doing in our room alone, though those thoughts often ended up wondering down a hormonal path that I really should steer clear of at the moment.

I cross my legs and lean back in my seat.

“Anything you want to do?” I reply as nonchalantly as I can. Snow glances at me and then quickly away, I can’t work out what he’s thinking. Is it about the kiss? Is it about finding him rummaging through my mother’s articles? My kidnapping? I don’t know whether I want to distract us from these thoughts, or talk them through. It feels like too much, all mounting up on me like this, I can’t help but feel anxious.

Snow shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders. “I’m the guest here.”

“I’d use that lightly,” I huff. “You’re not exactly getting the best hospitality here, are you?” I say it flatly, Snow knows that it’s not a question but a fact. He shrugs again. He’s always shrugging. His eyebrows pinch like his trying to think about how to word something.

“Don’t you feel—”

“Let’s study,” I say, cutting him off. I don’t want to answer anything that is poised as a question and includes the word ‘feel’.

“Study?” Snow asks, like he’s hearing the word for the first time.

“Yes, study.” He’s looking at me like I’ve just told him I’m a vampire. “What? Christ, Snow, aren’t you meant to be a genius? Are you telling me you’ve never studied?”

“No, that’s not. That’s not it, I study plenty, thank you very much—I just. I’m surprised you’d suggest studying.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, considering everything that’s happened, I just—”

“Please,” I interrupt again. I can’t have this talk right now, any of these talks. I don’t want to deal with feelings, I just want to pretend everything is fine, just for a little longer. I don’t want to talk about my mother, I don’t want to talk about myself, I don’t want to talk about that kiss, I just don’t think I can. I don’t trust myself not to spill everything I’ve been holding back for years. I just—I need to pretend. Just for a little longer. “Let’s just—let’s not talk about anything just yet, Snow. Let’s study. I’m still not entirely convinced you even know how to read.”

“Of course I can read!” He exclaims, sounding genuinely offended. I bless the heavens above that it’s so easy to distract him, so easy to rile him up. I love him for it.

“Oh really?” I taunt, pushing away from the table. He follows without breaking eye-contact. “I guess you’re just going to have to prove how smart you are then, scholarship-student.”

“I literally got the third highest grade in English!”

“Yeah, after me and Bunce.”

“You probably have like eighty private tutors and a rich-people machine that feeds knowledge into your head!”

“Snow, can you hear yourself?” I can’t help but laugh at him. Though it’s short and controlled. I manage to make it look like a sneer. Snow is most comfortable around me when I’m like this, playing the enemy, picking a fight.

“Fuck off, Baz.” He starts walking away from the table, then stops and looks over his shoulder to see if I’m following him, which I’m not.

“What is it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know where to go,” he says blankly. I huff through my nose, bite my lip to try and keep from smiling as I watch him standing there in my clothes which are a size or two too big. The sleeves hang over his hands; he has the fabric of each cuff bunched up in each freckled hand. I love him. I love him.

“Come on then, you git.”

#snowbaz #simon snow #simon snow fanfiction #snowbaz fic #snowbaz fic rec #fanfiction #carry on fandom #Wayward son fanfic #carry on fanfiction #baz #basilton pitch #Tyrannus Basilton Pitch #snowbaz fanfiction #cibcty

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buckleyy--diazz · 6 years ago

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Here's some untitled angsty Narry with a happy ending. Enjoy!

That's creepy you know that

Niall reads and re-read the text from Harry. He hadn't talked to him in weeks, maybe months and the text was confusing Niall. Harry had sent it in the middle of the night and Niall had no idea what Harry was referring to. Despite his better judgement he decides to text him back.

"What are you talking about?"

Niall doesn't expect an answer immediately, for all he knows Harry could have changed his number again. Niall usually receive a text from an unknown number every few months telling him Harry changed his number again. Everytime Niall rolls his eyes and text Harry back to tell him he saved his new number. He also tells him how many times he changed it in just a few years. Last time Harry was at 76.

"Your latest Instagram post."

It takes Niall a second to remember what he last posted on Instagram. He closes the text conversation and opens the app.

Oh.

Niall can see why Harry is a bit creeped out. He's been too when he first saw Conor's tattoo. The rose was not that bad, lots of men have roses tattooed on their bodies but the mermaid...It was too similar. Niall mentioned how it was making him uncomfortable but Conor shrugged it off saying he had no idea Harry had similar tattoos. Niall had wanted to call him out on it but he didn't felt like fighting with a friend. Despite his obvious attempt at looking like Harry, he was a nice guy and Niall didn't want to lose him as a friend.

"Creeping again I see" Niall sent back, ignoring Harry's comment.

"Why do you hang out with the Primark version of myself when you can have the real one?"

Niall rolls his eyes when he reads Harry's message. He loves him but sometimes Harry acts like a conceited arse.

"Nothing wrong with shopping at Primark."

"I know but you have enough to shop at Gucci."

"Gucci's never around so it's a bit difficult to shop there."

"Niall."

"Harry."

Niall closes his phone and throws it on his bed. He doesn't have time for this. He has a busy day and needs to be in the studio in one hour. Niall needs a long shower, he'll deal with Harry later. Harry will be pissed, he hates when Niall ignores him. Harry is never around, never stays at the same place for more than two or three weeks so he has no room to judge. Everytime Niall tried to talk about their relationship, tried to make things work out Harry left. Niall thought for a long time Harry would change, that he would stay in one place for him but he realised it would not happen so Niall stopped trying. He loved Harry, he had never stopped. They broke up for the first time a few months after the band went on hiatus, it was for the best. They had tried again later and it had worked for a few months before Harry got bored. Not of Niall he said, even if Niall wasn't sure if it was the truth. Harry said he needed to see the world. To really see it, to have time to visit foreign countries and to stay there for more than a few hours. Niall respected Harry's choice. He cried for weeks after, he's not gonna lie but he loved Harry and he hoped that if he let him go one day he would come back.

Now three years later Niall sometimes hoped he had insisted a bit more for Harry to stay but deep down Niall knew he would have lost Harry for good if he had done that. Now Harry was in and out of his life every few months. Niall still hoped one day Harry would tell him he was ready.

Niall undressed quickly, throwing his pants in the laundry basket and walked to the bathroom. Just as he turned on the water Niall heard a noise downstairs. It was probably only Tara, she had been out for most of the morning.

After his shower Niall wrapped a towel around his waist,p and walked briskly to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed and be out the door in a few minutes if he didn't want to be late. It was all Harry's fault, he decided.

Niall let out a scream when he noticed someone sitting on his bed. Harry. Harry was sitting on his bed. Niall held a hand over his heart until it slowed down to a normal beat.

"What are you doing here? Did Tara let you in?"

"No, I still have the code to the front gate and a key. I don't think Tara is here, haven't seen her."

"So you decided to give me a heart attack?"

"No but you were ignoring my texts."

"Right. Good reason to break in I guess," said Niall. He shivered when he felt the air conditioning hit his damp skin and it reminded him of his state of undress. Harry smirked and Niall didn't miss the way Harry's eyes trailed over his body.

"Why are you here Harry?"

"I told you, you were ignoring me."

"Because you were being an arse."

"Was I? I mean your friend his creepy."

Niall rolled his eyes again and ignored the jab Harry made at his friends again.

"I miss you."

"For how long this time?" Niall asked. It was his time being an arse but at this moment he couldn't care less.

"I'm serious Ni, I miss you. You have to have noticed I spend more time around here."

"You were in Canada, this isn't what I would call 'around here'."

"Randy and Cindy invited me to their summer house in Ontario, what was I supposed to do? Say no? You had golf events to attend, was I supposed to wait for you?" argued Harry and Niall couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I waited for you for years Harry," Niall shouted, "I was always waiting, hoping you would come back, but you never do."

"Niall," Harry sighed, "I didn't come here to fight with you." Harry extended his arm and took Niall's hands to pull him closer. Niall stopped between Harry's legs and Harry wrapped his arms around Niall's waist, his hands flat against the small of Niall's back. Harry's thumbs were drawing circles on Niall's skin.

Niall should fight, he should get away from Harry, he couldn't let him manipulate him like that again but Harry was Niall's biggest weakness. Niall put his arms around Harry's shoulders and said nothing for a while. He was definitely late now.

"I miss you too," Niall said. He looked down and Harry was looking at him, a small smile on his lips. Niall leaned in and he kissed Harry softly.

"Don't make me regret this," Niall said.

"I promise."

Niall disentangled himself from Harry's embrace and reached for his phone. He texted Teddy that was probably waiting for him. Niall hoped she wouldn't be too mad at him.

[One year later]

Niall was making breakfast when Harry walked in the kitchen, he was back from his yoga class. Niall smiled when he saw him. Harry had kept his promises and Niall regretted nothing. It took time but he had been patient and now Harry was back in his life for good he could feel it. Harry was not going anywhere.

Harry plastered himself against Niall's back and kissed his neck.

"Hi babe."

"Hi pet."

Harry put his hands on Niall's hips and spun him around so they were face to face. Before Niall knew what was happening Harry dropped to one knee and held a little black velvet box.

"Niall, it took us forever to find each other again but I love you more than anything, will you marry me?"

Niall's eyes filled with tears as he nodded enthusiastically.

#Narry #Narry fic #Narry fanfiction #Niall Horan #Harry Styles #my writing #ficlet

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ramblingrybo · 5 years ago

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There’s a Mad Monk in the Garden Shed

Last Thursday morning at seven o’clock, I was shaving and looking out of the bathroom window. I was still numb from sleep but awake enough to appreciate the rich translucent light which bathed the garden below. Just beyond the pergola, the pantiles of next door’s outbuilding were splashed with the first colourful flushes of honeysuckle. The thatch of green leaves which covered the roof was dotted here and there with pink, yellow and cream flower clusters. I could almost smell them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly caught a flash of white. Yes, beneath the gloom of the damson trees and behind the shadowy glass of the garden shed, a form materialised. I stopped shaving. My neck prickled. Then, to my horror, the shed door opened and in an instant I was looking down upon the hooded figure of a monk. The belted habit, bare calves and sandals merely confirmed it. What the...? A host of alarming possibilities presented themselves, all of them frightening. Was this a squatter monk and if so how was I going to get rid of him? Or was he a mad monk bent on establishing a new holy order in Tealby? Perhaps he was neither of these and just a ghost or a figment of my imagination. But what was I thinking? Just a ghost? Was I going to be haunted for the rest of my life? And, if a figment of my imagination, what did this suggest about my sanity? Because I could swear this figure was real.

It was only then, a full five seconds after its initial appearance, that the figure turned to gaze into the pond and I could see that the mad monk was in fact my wife. Feeling stupid, I covered my embarrassment by tutting angrily. What right had she to be in the garden at this time of the morning? What right had she to scare me in this way? Who in their right minds wears a dressing gown outside?Wasn’t she supposed to be in the kitchen eating her breakfast? Gruffly patting my face with the towel, I quickly turned on the shower and stepped under the drilling water to try to forget this annoying breach of my early morning routine.

Why am I telling you all this? Perhaps because this episode illustrates two weaknesses in my character - that I scare easily and that I don’t like dressing gowns. Let us start with the first of these. As a child, shyness and a vivid imagination meant that I could suffer the jitters in any social gathering. Fairs, circuses, zoos, children’s parties, school fetes, all had the potential to overwhelm me. Then there were the specifics. Clowns’ feet, ventriloquists’ dolls, beards and the coal house were truly frightening closely followed by incisors, swimming, tomato sauce and toy sharks in the bath. As I got older, I would carry out nightly rituals in my bedroom to ward off evil - looking under the bed three times, sniffing the gas tap six times and so on. Then came the crucifix on a chain dangling from the bedhead. Thankfully, by the time I went to college, I could control the urge to scream every time I saw a bearded man eating a hot dog. But watching ‘The Exorcist’ was a big mistake, leaving me virtually catatonic for weeks afterwards. Nowadays, I still scare easily but the fright soon dissipates which is why the mad monk quickly transformed from nasty shock to source of irritation.

Now we come to the subject of dressing gowns. Obviously, when I was young everyone wore a dressing gown because in those days houses were freezing and bedrooms didn’t have carpets. But as soon as I could make a choice, I gave them up entirely. As a teenager, dressing gowns made me think of those line drawings by Spike Milligan of soldiers wearing voluminous shorts out of which protrude a pair of thin, hairy legs and knobbly knees. In my mind, I had reduced them to items of clothing you might find in a fancy dress box. An illustration of this occurred when I was a student in London. I was staying with a friend, Andy, in Southgate for the weekend and on the Saturday night we went to the pub wearing nothing but dressing gowns and slippers. Any details of the evening have been lost in the mists of time. I can’t remember the reaction of the clientele or how we got home but I suppose we must have thought it was funny or else we wouldn’t have done it. A further episode, this time involving another friend, Dave, also springs to mind. We were on holiday in a house in Newton Abbott when he suddenly started to dance to ‘Kung-Fu Fighting’ in his girlfriend’s kimono. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wearing any underpants so that every time he executed a high kick, he revealed himself. It is an image scorched on my memory and one which I will always associate with dressing gowns.

It was only when I was sixty that I was finally forced to bite the bullet and buy a dressing gown and slippers. I was going into hospital for a hip replacement operation and these items of clothing were considered mandatory. Not wanting to spend a lot of money, I bought a navy blue towelling dressing gown for £5 from Primark and a pair of moccasins for £6. After one wash in the washing machine and a stint in the tumble drier, the dressing gown was shorn of its fluffiness and resembled a hessian sack. The moccasins looked like smoked kippers. Six weeks later, after a period of rest and recuperation, these items were abandoned and now lurk in some darkened corner of our house.

Isn’t it amazing where a sudden shock can take you? Who would have thought that a vision of a mad monk could lead us via a bearded man eating a hot dog to a dodgy dance in a kimono? And that was just the short journey. I didn’t have time to tell you about Derek, the ‘Slipper Man’ who gained entry into the Guinness Book of Records in 2007 for wearing his slippers non-stop for twenty three years. Now, I thought I had problems.

#Fear #horror #dressing gowns #slippers #sheds #Excorcist

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hops1982blr-blog · 5 years ago

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Weekend Football

Welcome to my first blog. I’ve chosen an incredibly original subject to write about, that being men’s association football, seeing as nobody ever talks about it and it’s seldom seen on TV.

However, despite this, I am going to try and look at it from a different angle including TV coverage. I’d like to use the word ‘irreverent’, but this just reminds me of an irritating, try-hard ‘comedian’ who’s just got his (or her) own vacuous show on some late-night slot on BB3 (RIP) or ITV2.

A little about the author. I’m a cantankerous, cynical sports fan, born in the 80s, a misty-eyed romantic, harking back to ‘the good old days’ of football in the 90s, when players like Shearer, Gazza, Baggio and Weah were my heroes. When social media and being ‘woke’ wasn’t a thing; players weren’t trying to make side careers in broadcasting, making clothes, giving themselves nicknames like ‘J.Lingz’ or being cool and looked like the supporters on the terraces.

And so, as you’re losing the will to live, onto the football. The weekend started (for me, at least) with the lunchtime kick off at the Olympic Stadium for West Ham vs. Tottenham. Of course, all the talk was about Jose’s return, and I’ve a feeling he took the Spurs job simply because the first game was the welcoming prospect of facing West Ham; like returning from holiday and getting a hug off your mum, this was as nice a comeback as is possible.

The downside of the lunchtime kick-off is that we’re forced to watch the game on BT Sport. From the annoying, smarminess of the presenter Jake Humphries, a man who’d probably show you his bank balance on a night out, to the twee, cockney geezer analysis of Joe Cole. How appropriate that this match featured the ‘Ammers, because the latter always reminds me of a member of Albert Square.

The game itself was as underwhelming as Joe’s hairline, with West Ham playing up to their ‘mumsy’ role and allowing a Spurs team with only one away Prem win in the last 12 months to romp into a 3-0 lead, before showing some sort of commitment and getting a couple of late goals back. In truth, 3-2 flattered West Ham, who were so bad in the opening 45 minutes, that it prompted the pundits to laud Dele Alli, who is now apparently ‘back’, a conclusion that was drawn primarily from one on-the-floor back flick to Son which brought about the second goal, and not much else in the way of hard evidence.

Accordingly, Mourinho had a part to play with a fantastic bit of man management in which he supposedly asked ‘Dele’ if he was the real person, or if it’d been his brother playing for the past year. With insight like this, why is ‘The Special One’ (I hate that nickname, so please read it with the highest level of cynicism humanly possible) wasting his time managing Tottenham and not involved in the Brexit negotiations or middle east peace negotiations? It baffles me.

Fast forward past Gillette Soccer Saturday, which is now becoming trite given that Charlie Nicholas and Phil Thompson are still on our TVs every week. With a similar, baffling level of ubiquity, they’re like a football version of Ant & Dec, but without any of the wit, charm or entertainment value. Nicholas still thinks he’s living in the 80s with his poncey haircut and daft earring, and Thommo is just annoying, spitting out heavy clichés with his guttural scouse accent for six hours each and every grinding Saturday afternoon.

Saturday tea-time brings us the delights of crisis club (again, find that sarcasm level and ramp it up to 11) Man City at home to Chelsea, who, as many before me have remarked, have become weirdly likeable. I guess when John Terry isn’t involved with a club, they immediately become 1,000 times more affable and it feels acceptable to not hate them.

The game itself was dull, with not much to talk about except the disallowing of Raheem Sterling’s goal because his armpit was offside. Thank God for VAR, otherwise the heinous, egregious error to award Sterling that goal would've stood. What a time to be alive and how grateful we should all be that this fantastic piece of technology has been brought in to 100% improve the world's greatest sport. Truly joyous. As is probably obvious, I hate, hate, HATE VAR. It’s sucking the life out of football, with its sanitation and cleansing of passion. I’d rather see 100 incorrect decisions per season that be forced to spend five minutes watching the fun police disallowing a goal because a striker’s pubic hair is beyond that of the last defender.

Talking of fun police, in the studio are Roy Keane and Jamie Redknapp, a couple of pundits whose opinions are polar opposite in terms of validity. Keano could tell me that Primark made the world’s best garments, and I’d believe him. On the other hand, Redknapp would, for me, struggle to sell water to a man dying of thirst. He should be put out to pasture now, free to pursue his interests, which no doubt include heading into town after the match to see how young a woman he can pull (to be clear here, I’m not suggesting he’s the new Adam Johnson, just more that he’s probably a bit of an old sleazebag) and trying on as much aftershave as possible.

Saturday ends with Match of the Day, which is still the only way to watch Premier League highlights. If you don’t enjoy watching and listening to the obvious dad jokes of Lineker, then you’re probably someone who votes for the Brexit party and can’t see past your right-wing views. On the other side of that weird, low table they have are Danny Murphy and Alan Shearer.

Murphy, for me, always looks like he’s just stepped out of Burton’s menswear but is annoyed at himself for once more going back in after being disappointed with his previous purchases. I heard a BBC commentator/presenter once say that Murphy is ‘hilarious and great company’. That same commentator also spent some time in a correctional facility in the early 2000s, so his gauge of fun and good company might be somewhat skewed. Shearer is Shearer. As a Blackburn fan, I won’t say a bad word against him, and his punditry has drastically improved over the years, but he does have a habit of, have a habit of repeating himself, which is his idiosyncrasy that I find quite endearing.

As I’m writing this, Sheffield United are playing Man United. In the studio, Graeme Souness and Brian Deane are both dressed like country gents who are about to go shooting pheasants and grouse at Sandringham (with Prince Andrew and Jamie Redknapp, perhaps?), and on the field, another Blackburn connection is Phil Jones, the gift that keeps on giving, handing the Blades the lead with a fantastic piece of misjudgement that allowed the striker Lys Mousset the opportunity to pull the ball back and give his team the lead. The final 25 minutes was chaos, with two mid-table sides scrapping it out to a 3-3 draw with awful defending getting the assists.

That’s all I can muster this week. If you managed it, congratulations on getting to the end. What will football bring us next week? I can hardly contain my excitement at the prospect.

#premier league #football #sky sports #bt sport #eastenders #prince andrew #joe cole

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upslapmeal · 6 years ago

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So on Monday I went to Rachel Bloom’s concert in London which was honestly so much fun, and I said I’d make a post about it so here are the Hot Deets™

Rachel talked between songs, a significant proportion of which was done in an accent that would make Dick Van Dyke proud, and I’m not going to be able to remember everything so I’ve made a list of the songs (minus whichever ones I’ve inevitably forgotten) in (roughly) the order they were performed and I’ll just mention any notable things I remember. Oh and it was 6 years ago to the day that Rachel and Aline first met!

Period Sex

a strong opener, of course

she changed macys.com to primark and everyone lost their minds

‘primark sounds like a brand of pregnancy test’

Oh My God I Think I Like You

‘that was barely a song, we wrote that in about 20 minutes so here’s an actual song’

We Should Definitely Not Have Sex Right Now

this was based, naturally, on Rachel and Adam Schlesinger’s electric chemistry

I’m A Good Person

she preceded this with a hilarious story about how when she and her husband were in London for the first time, she got him to watch Mary Poppins which he hadn’t seen before, and all he took away was that Mary Poppins spent the film gaslighting two children

‘the way they talk about it being real after all in Mary Poppins Returns is EXACTLY how people talk about repressed memories of that time uncle Bobby had a little too much to drink’

this had the seamless link to the song of her saying that she may have ruined our childhoods but she had something to tell us, except she misread the planned song order so the band started playing........not I’m A Good Person

♫ say it, tell me I’m a good person wait no not yet I have a whole bit I wanted to do ok say it or I won’t stop making fun of your accent: ‘I’m from the north’ ‘I’m from the south’ ‘and I’m from the fucking SEEEAAAAAAA!’ ♫

Feeling Kinda Naughty

Sexy French Depression

‘this is a song about Europe, which you may not be part of any more?’

I was going to stick a video of the story she told beforehand here but I can’t work out how to without uploading it to youtube

but basically it was the story of her husband trying to get takeaway soup from a restaurant in Paris that refused to give him takeaway

..........it was funnier than that sounds

Friendtopia

they bought on two audience members to sing the Heather/Valencia parts and Kat Burns taught them the dance!

Kat was a sweetheart and checked we all understood what y’all meant

we got her ‘have a good show!’ before they started the song

We Tapped That Ass

Adam and Ethan Eubanks (the drummer) sang this while Rachel and Kat danced

Rachel, sitting on stage putting on her tap shoes while everyone else waits: ‘you know I really should have worked this into the act’

then at the end she got Kat to help her with a bit she messed up during the song until she got it right

What’ll It Be

unlike putting her shoes on, taking her shoes off was worked into the act in the form of Adam singing this

it was the first of several times the audience all shone/waved our phone torches

It Was A Shit Show

full video of this here

‘if anyone wants to sing this to someone tonight then go for it, you know they’re not the one’

The Math Of Love Triangles

Pete Gardner and Scott Michael Foster appeared to sing the professors’ parts and the audience lost it, all the people I could hear near me clearly had no idea they would be there and it was the first song to get a standing ovation

Jazz Fever

if there was just one of Rachel’s pre-CXG songs I wanted her to perform then it would have been this so I was delighted

I Love My Daughter

Let’s Have Intercourse

sung by Scott ‘I may have drunk too much last night so can you all sing the high notes for me bc there is physically no way I can hit them rn’ Foster

at the end he put a condom on one of Rachel’s fingers and she gave it to someone in the audience

except apparently it was drenched in lube which was then all over Rachel’s hands, making getting the mike off the stand for the next song trickier than it should have been

‘it turns out that lube makes a great cuticle cream’

A Diagnosis

Gettin’ Bi

the bi flag flown high was, in fact, a union jack

Scott was (not played, was) the saxophone solo

I Go To The Zoo

either they got the volume wrong at the start or they wanted it to feel like we were in an actual club but it was so loud at the beginning you couldn’t even hear Scott sing

Rachel and Kat were the animals, Pete was Ron and not-Susan

Fuckton Of Cats

Sports Analogies

Pete sang (mostly - there were definitely a couple of lines that should have had words but came out badadabumdapdaadaa) the Josh lines

naturally they added a final line about how football isn’t soccer

The Darkness

another time the audience all shone/waved our phone torches, apparently the first time that had happened for a performance of this song

‘singing about the darkness to an audience that’s literally giving me light is pretty fucking moving’

Ray Bradbury/Stacy’s Mom Mashup

I knew they’d performed Stacy’s Mom at some of the other concerts they’ve done but it wasn’t until this concert that I made the connection with Adam Schlesinger

this was the ‘‘‘‘last song’’’

‘I need to tell them there will be an encore, Adam! IF I DIDN’T THEY MIGHT LEAVE’

You Stupid Bitch

all the little side comments in this song work so well with it being an actual song performed live to an audience

we did know this one! we did sing with her!!

honestly what better way to close the show

Towards the end Rachel, Kat, Pete and Scott posed for photos based on themes suggested by the audience - zoo, horny angry tango, and group hug:

And that’s about it! Afterwards everyone except Rachel (at least while I was there) popped out to spend a bit of time at the stage door but the group I was with was too far back in the queue to say hi. I did, however, get my Broom Darryl pin passed up the queue to Pete when he came out so he got that and put it on his hat. But the whole thing was just such a Good Time, 10/10 would recommend if Rachel Bloom performs anywhere near you. Or even not that near, I can confirm that it’s worth the flight.

#I should be asleep but I had to make this now bc otherwise I'd have forgotten even more that I already have #rachel bloom #crazy ex girlfriend #cxg #upslaplife

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nevillelongsbottom · 6 years ago

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the loop pairing: newt scamander/credence barebone word count: 1849 for the @hogwartsonline february quidditch

This is Newt’s fiftieth February 14; as he gets up, he wonders if he could count it as an anniversary. But it still doesn’t feel like something to celebrate, trapped in one Valentine’s Day for an interminable period of time.

He has bunked off school for the past twenty, so supposes he might as well attend today, even though he knows all of his lessons by heart now. He considers sneaking into other lessons, or spending his day in the library. He sighs.

He hopes he doesn’t die today. He doesn’t always, but he choked yesterday and he can still feel the ghost of it in his throat.

Maybe, he thinks as he scoops his cat Pippa from his bed so that he can make it, he should celebrate Valentine’s Day for his fiftieth day. He gave up a while ago, after eating too many chocolate caramel hearts. Nobody at school has bought himself anything for the chocolate exchange. It disappoints him a little every day, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s half-jealous of Jacob and Queenie being such sweethearts or if he’s feeling a little lonely. He hums, kissing Pippa’s head.

He borrows his mum’s iPod before he leaves the house. As in almost every repeat of the day, he almost misses the bus: no matter what time he leaves the house, he seems eternally fated to have to run down the street, sitting at the back of the forty-two in a cloud of sweat. Today, he’s listening to Kurt Vile and Courtney Barnett’s Lotta Sea Lice. He knows the words off by heart now; the first week or two of his loop, he mostly listened to David Bowie and Buddy Holly, but ever since he’s been jumping around his and his mother’s music tastes. He wonders if he’ll hate these songs if he leaves the loop, if they’ll remind him of the claustrophobia of being stuck.

But as of right now, he still loves Kurt Vile, loves the blues riff that hangs over his repeated day.

In the foyer, Seraphina and Abernathy are manning the Valentine’s chocolate stall. This is one of the only things that isn’t stagnant throughout his loops: the people in charge of the stall fluctuate with no discernible pattern, and Newt has never actually seen this particular pairing of student council members in charge of the stall before. Abernathy isn’t a fan of Valentine’s Day.

“Can I tempt you to buy someone some chocolates, Newt?” Seraphina asks, smiling wirily at him, knowing he’s more likely to say no. “They’re caramel hearts. They’re delicious. Everybody loves chocolate. Even Abernathy is sending some.”

“Hey,” Abernathy sniffs.

“To Gellert?” Newt asks. Abernathy sighs. His unrequited love for the student council vice president has never been particularly subtle. Newt smiles sympathetically. “I suppose I’ll send some.” He hands over a two-pound coin he’s spent on everything from sweets to a terrific bright red sale bowler from Primark.

“Who are you sending them to?” she asks, and with it, the implication of platonic or romantic?

“Credence Barebone,” Newt answers. Seraphina raises an eyebrow. Newt fixedly says nothing in return.

“And would you like to send a note?” she asks, proffering a piece of red card cut into the shape of a heart. “You can write it yourself. I don’t have to listen to your sweet nothings. But maybe refrain from any animal similes.”

“I’m not very romantic,” Newt admits, taking the Sharpie and musing for a few moments before writing carry on, my dear. fondly from Newt. Abernathy peers at it, but Seraphina is professional and turns it over, marking it with Credence’s name. “I hope he likes it.”

“Everybody likes chocolate,” Abernathy says. “Even Gellert.”

Newt has never told Credence that he liked him before. He’s not even sure that my dear and fondly count. But he’s done this day fifty times, watched Credence sit on his own at lunch time eating a pathetic excuse for a lunch, watched him shrink away when the Valentine’s chocolates get delivered.

And Newt can’t watch anymore, not even when he knows that this day will probably pass.

He doesn’t get to see his chocolates delivered - there are deliveries in the classes he shares with Credence, one in maths that the recipient shares around so they eat theirs together over rearranging equations. Credence understands this more than Newt does, still, even though he’s explained it repeatedly. Newt only gets a little better. He smiles at Credence as they eat. Perhaps he’ll never really get the intricacies of it all, or understand why certain things have to be done in maths, or get why he has to be given such stupidly difficult questions, but Credence will always be here to try and explain it through different paradigms.

“Do you wanna stop for a minute?” Credence asks softly, sensing Newt’s acute frustrations over a particularly vexing x. Newt nods, and they take the moment to eat.

“Thank you,” Newt says. “For helping me with maths. I know I’m not very good at it.”

Credence flushes. “That’s okay,” he says, and looks at Newt as if he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. He just finishes eating, turns back to the textbook, and asks if Newt has figured out what to do yet.

Newt’s last class of the day is a double of art, and he is currently occupied with carrying out a series of paintings of animals inspired by the style of John J. Audubon’s Birds of America. The one bonus of the loop, he thinks, is that he’s had time to improve his art, and learn from his mistakes. He’s starting to get adept at this particular painting of a cockatiel, knows exactly the best colours to mix and the best brushes to use.

What’s never happened before, assumedly because Newt has never sent chocolate before, is the arrival of Credence. The art department is relaxed, with students working all across the rooms with a variety of equipment, and so there isn’t a teacher to question his arrival: it’s just Newt, his Bluetooth speakers, and Horchata by Vampire Weekend.

“Hello,” he says, noticing Credence and setting down his brush.

“Hi,” says Credence. “Thank you for the chocolates. That was very nice - they were very nice.” Credence pauses for a moment, and Newt waits, lets his mind turn. “I kept some. I thought you could have some, too.”

“Oh, thank you very much.” Newt gestures to a nearby stool (art departments, of course, do not seem to understand the concept of chairs), which Credence pulls up. “I’m sorry. I know those chocolates were awfully forward.”

“No, I - I know I’m not supposed to like you like that, that it’s not right, but I…” Credence flushes. “I do.”

Newt raises his eyebrows. “Well, ah… that’s good.” He laughs. “I wasn’t expecting that. I’m sorry. Listen, do you want to talk about this more another time? Maybe over coffee? There’s that nice one across the street, the Blind Pig…”

Credence nods. “I would - like that.”

Newt beams. “Okay. Uhm, tomorrow’s Friday, so we could always go after school then, if you aren’t busy?”

“Ma expects me home in good time to go flyering,” Credence says, his voice quieting for a moment, “but I’m sure I can - maybe an hour.” He glances at the canvas. “I told my teacher I was sick, so can I… watch you paint, maybe? Or - or I don’t have to, if that’ll put you off.”

Newt smiles, popping a chocolate in his mouth and picking up his brush. He didn’t expect this day to go so well: what an anniversary, he thinks. The thing that saddens him is the idea that tomorrow isn’t going to come, that he’s never going to make it to that coffee date with Credence in the artisanal coffee shop opposite their school campus. He’s glad that Credence likes him back, that he isn’t completely overwhelmed by his heavily conservative Christian upbringing, that he’s willing to try it and risk it - for Newt.

Newt just has to enjoy the rest of the day as best he can. And tomorrow - the next February 14th - he’ll miss it.

The incredibly loud start to Harry Nilsson’s Gotta Get Up playing on Newt’s speakers jolts him awake, and he jolts out of bed, just catching himself before he topples to the floor. He groans. “God, Mum-”

“Do I look that much like her?” Theseus demands, and Newt looks up, rather surprised to see the tall figure of his brother standing in his doorframe. Nobody told him that Theseus was coming to visit from Durham, and furthermore - this hasn’t happened before. Theseus has never been here. Newt’s heart glimmers with hope.

“Well, when you had that long hair, you certainly did,” Newt answers, climbing out of bed and into Theseus’s obligatory bear hug, which he also uses as a chance to ruffle Newt’s already bedraggled hair. “When did you get here? Mum didn’t say you were coming.”

“I thought I would surprise you,” Theseus says. “Though mostly I’m here for the free lunches. My bank account looks like I’ve been through an economic crisis.”

“Stop buying fancy clothes and that’ll change.”

“I’m not going to be one of those students who shows up to their lectures in tracksuits. I’m here to learn. Seriously. And get drunk. Seriously. And also, I made breakfast, so get the fuck downstairs before it all goes cold and you better appreciate it. I haven’t used more than a microwave in about three months and I almost set fire to the house.”

Newt laughs, hurrying downstairs and sorting his hair as he goes; and as he does, he checks the clock in the living room, the one that has the date.

He’s scared to look, but he has to. Today already feels new.

Friday, February 15th.

It always rains when Credence wakes up. He always wakes up early, has to make breakfast for himself and a good deal of the area’s children, and the thing that seems to characterise five in the morning is that there’s always a drizzle outside. He sighs, smoothing his hair down and quickly dressing: it isn’t as if he has much variety in outfits, only having a few pieces from thrift shops.

That loop went so well. It disappoints him that it’s over, and that Newt is probably going to go back to never giving him flowers again. It’s just going to be February 14, and Newt will either be there or he won’t, and nothing will change.

He wedges open his window, ignoring the rain.

“Here we go again,” he murmurs to himself, and, as he passes by it, checks his calendar out of habit. At the end of each day, he crosses the day off: it keeps him on top of things, lets him know what he has coming up, reduces his focus on the past. And he’s been doing it every day, every February 14th, just in case he ever makes it to the next day.

His breath hitches.

There’s a cross in the February 14 box.

#i write shit #fbawtft #crewt #fanfic #fantastic beasts and where to find them #crewt fanfic #newt scamander #credence barebone #newt x credence #credence x newt

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dwindlingashesburnt · 6 years ago

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I'm annoyed at myself in a kind of saddening way today.

I failed to do the stuff I wanted to do/needed to do today.

I wanted to do some kind of vaguely good or kind act in town today even if it was as small as going somewhere other than Primark for clothes or smiling at a passer by...I failed to do that.

I bought nothing I wanted or needed, instead I made two impulse buys - I've been telling myself to stop with the impulse buys for months and it clearly isn't working and I'm not working hard enough at it - and worse, both of said buys were sweets. I'm aware I need to have a healthier diet and to lose weight so this is bad

I thought about asking my sibling to get off the bus early so we could walk the rest of the way home, but I didn't. I didn't even ASK. God.

When I got home I went, well, I won't eat all these sweets today, I'll just eat some of the sugar free ones and leave the rest and the chocolates for tomorrow.

Oh yeah and the sugar free ones say they can have a laxative effect if you eat too many at once but that's fine because I'm not going to eat many, just like five gummy bears.

.......

I ate the whole fucking packet AND the chocolates.

Ohhhh and we're going to the beach tomorrow so will probably be up early for that day trip. Oh and I've been saying for DAYS that I need to just go to sleep when I go to bed and stop depriving myself of sleep for stupid reasons.

But of course, instead of doing the fucking sane thing and either sleeping at around 9pm when I went to bed or at least 10, or instead spending the time on something productive or self care to presumptively deal with any issues tomorrow, I watched stupid YouTube videos I was barely even INTERESTED IN, for HOURS.

Now it's a few fucking minutes from midnight, and I'm still awake, very tense, with an upset stomach from eating too many of the fucking laxative sweets, ringing in my ears from too much sleep deprivation and feeling both dizzy and light headed AGAIN though god fucking knows what that's about - but guess what I've got to describe it all to a fucking neurologist in the far too close future and aint that gonna be fun

I'd love if I could at least wave a hand and be like yes but this is due to my relapse! Or this is due to issues with my mother! Or whatever else but as much as I could probably argue a case for any of those if I tried, it isn't fucking true. All excuses I can think of are just that - I've certainly occasionally used them as an excuse to indulge my bad habit but they're not the actual cause. The actual cause is I started taking the path of least resistance when I was too exhausted, scared or debatably depressed to do otherwise, but then I got better and just never fucking changed that habit because it was effort and I didn't really care and I didn't want to have to face any sort of responsibility for my own actions nor to take control of my own life and that's fucking pathetic and yet I still sit here and list all the things wrong with where I am now, all the things that describe where I want to be, all the many ways I could work towards that and then just NEVER FUCKING DO ANY OF THEM

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miserablesoldier · 7 years ago

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Go Fish

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: on a mission to capture an enhanced individual, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes unassumingly come across them in an elevator in a run down hotel in which it gets pretty awkward when it gets stuck in the middle of the night.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4k+

Author’s Note: After a much needed mental break and an episode, I’m reposting these fics and maybe I’ll post new ones in the future.

The end of autumn and the start of winter, the beginning of getting plastered for an entire month. What could be better than that? Oh, right, getting out of this piss stinking hotel and out of this cramped city. You weren’t a fan of New York City at all, especially with all the crazy crap that happens in that city.

You can’t really complain about that since you were associated with the crazy crap. You made sure to stay out of every sort of media eye and out of the Avenger’s shadow. It would have been easier to avoid them a month ago but now, not so much.

You didn’t really think that fully fledged enemies or arch-nemesis was actually a thing for you, but it looks like you pissed the wrong guy off because it looking like someone is spilling blood in your name.

Which you weren’t too happy about.

As much as you would love to take the guy out, that would make too much of a mess and cause too much attention. You didn’t want to get on the radar, you wanted off the grid completely. Which is what you were doing.

Designer clothes, accessories or anything of the style wasn’t your forte so you could pick what was essential and go like it was nothing. You do have an actual house to call a home but that’s shoved far back in the crevasses of your mind. It needed protecting, it was your home. No damage will be done to it so cheap, dirty motel rooms were the right way to go.

No questions asked and nothing ever worked other than the shower which is all you really needed.

You dropped off your room keys and the money for the room before you turned on your heels for the elevator, you wanted to go to the roof which was wasting time realistically but had your knocked about Polaroid with you and it was a weird tradition that you took a picture of the location and skyline of where you stayed. You would write down the place, time, date and how long you stayed there.

A slide of a large map came into mind. Your old room, all your old childhood possessions gathering dust in that empty, boarded up house. Safe. How it should be, for now.

You smiled to yourself as the memory faded in your mind. One day. You would make it back home in one piece, crossing every ocean if you had to. The imagery of returning home held only yourself walking past the rusted gates and up the stoned pathway with no one by your side. You were perfectly content with that ending and you didn’t see it as any other way.

You pulled at your pony tail, tightening the band around your silk hair. You decided on a side Dutch braid for today, up your hair game a little. You didn’t know why, you were fine with a standard pony tail every other day but today felt different. A good different, but that is yet to be determined.

Clutching your patch covered army green back pack, you made your way from the front desk to the elevator at the end of the stained corridor. For clothes, you raising the Amy Navy Surplus store for plain, cheap shirts and heavy duty boots and thick jackets. You grabbed a couple cheap black skinny jeans from Primark. Pretty reasonable and quality, at times.

Mid walk, you pulled your phone out and slotted your cheap earphones in and pressed shuffle. Your music taste was soft, dark and a mix of 80s groove. It was weird.

You stopped at the elevator and pressed the button with the arrow pointing up to the skies. With the music sending spiralling waves of art into your ears, you didn’t much hear of the two pairs of foot steps coming up beside you for the elevator.

You glanced to your right and saw a tall, broad and muscly blonde haired man sporting a baseball hat and sunglasses. Very inconspicuous. He felt familiar to you. He gave you a kind smile and nodded his head.

“Ma’am.” Who in the world talks like that? You returned with a small smile of your own and a raise of your eyebrows. You weren’t much of a talker to strangers especially.

To your left, was an equally tall, muscly and handsome man with dark brown hair pulled back in a man bun with a few strands left in the front. Another baseball hat. “Ma’am.” He said it too and you gave the same the response to this man as well. He wasn’t as familiar as the blonde but there was something about his eyes.

Honestly, waiting for the elevator to come down and open is far worse than the music that plays in it when you’re in it. You wished for it to come sooner.

You wish didn’t come true. You had to stand in between these two men for another two minutes. You contemplated just leaving and forgetting about the photo. It may be silly but it’s important to you. So, you stayed and waited for the elevator with them.

The silver doors with bullet dents creaked open. That’s comforting, you thought to yourself.

“After you, Ma’am.” The blonde insisted and you quickly shuffled into the elevator. It wasn’t the biggest but it could have been the smallest with these two beefy men in it with you.

You pulled one ear pud out. “Thank you.”

The dark haired man smiled at her and then turned to the door where the buttons were, his attention went back to her. “What floor, Ma’am?”

I hate the way they call me that. “I’m going to the roof.” You continued before it got even more awkward.

“To take pictures with my camera.” You said and they nodded. The one with the pretty eyes pressed the button for the fifth floor and then the tenth floor.

You nodded your thanks, and placed the ear pud back in your ear and leant against the cool stainless steel walls of the elevator. You closed your eyes to enjoy the music and to ignore the men.

The blonde haired man bought that you couldn’t hear him or his friend through your music but he was wrong. “Bucky, this is the very last motel in the area that Bruce came up with. If she’s not here then she is long gone.”

“Steve, It’s always the last place you look, that’s what Wanda keeps saying.” The aforementioned Bucky told his friend.

Steve sighed but remained focussed. “Let’s hope, she’s always on the move and we have no idea what she looks like.”

“Now that we’re doing this legally, it will take time to get her ID from Scotland Yard and they’re not particularly friendly with Stark.”

Your eyes quickly opened.

Stark.

Blonde.

Steve.

FUCK.

The elevator screeched and shook to a halt which caused you to fall to your knees while the two stood firm with their hands on the walls. Bucky helped you up to your feet and you muttered your thanks to him.

You rubbed your forehead. Your head collided with the metal cage you’re currently strapped in now. “Ow.” Steve heard that and looked over at your direction.

“Are you okay, Ma’am?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

You winced but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m good. Just a bang on my head when I fell.”

Bucky gave a concerned glance over to Steve which he reciprocated which you couldn’t have missed. You dropped your bag on the floor and looked over at Bucky. “Are you going to ring the alarm or what?”

He looked confused. You frowned and pointed to the button with the yellow bell on it. “Press that and it triggers the alarm, someone will answer.” You hoped to gold holy Hell, you wanted out and now. You couldn’t be in a stick elevator with two of Earth’s Mightiest hero’s.

This could be your hell right now but everyone else’s heaven.

Bucky followed your instructions and pressed the bell. It rang for fifteen minutes and he wasn’t pleased no one answered. “They should’ve answered. It’s their job.”

“Not in this motel, sweetie. It’s the most run down piece of crap in town. Nothing works.” You would have smirked or at least given have a comforting smile but the thunder raging in your head didn’t give you the luxury. You saw the slight pink hue on his cheeks and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself in the most worst ways.

“Bloody hell.” You and me both, honey.

You slid down the wall of the elevator with one leg outstretched and the other bent with your bag in between them. You unzipped it half way and pulled out a bottle of water and some ibuprofen.

Steve kneeled down to you. “You sure you’re okay, Ma’am?”

You nodded as you met his gentle blue eyes. “I’m fine, and please, call me (Y/N).” He smiles but there was still worry circulating in those eyes of his.

“If you say so, (Y/N), but I’ll keep checking until we get out of here.” He rose up to his feet, looking at Bucky who wasn’t happy with the service in this place.

You took a gulp of water out of the bottle and took two small white pills of ibuprofen to hopefully cure the pain in your head. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Rogers. Definitely the Avengers.

“Bucky Barnes.” The one with the shady past, you really couldn’t talk about pasts.

You tightened the top of the bottle water. “Nice to meet you both given the circumstances.” It wasn’t.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “You could say that again.”

A voice of static came out of the speakers. “Hello, is there anyone there?”

“Yes, the elevator got stuck at the fourth floor and we’re tapped in it.” Bucky has restraint which you found impressive as you thought he would go all Alpha on the guy for being lazy on his job.

“How many are you in there?”

Bucky glanced at Steve and then you before answering. “Three of us, sir, one of us has hit their head and we need to get out of here.”

“We’ll get you out of there as soon as possible, hang tight.”

You definitely didn’t believe that. You’ll be in here for hours. You recon you would miss the last coach out of the city but it isn’t like you haven’t slept in a bus station before. It doesn’t bother you.

“Hopefully, your injury will speed the process.” Bucky informed them, joining you on the floor to your right with his legs crossed. You noticed the single gloved hand of his. It is true about the metal arm then.

You pulled out your earphones. “Very doubtful, Bucky.”

You sighed unhappily and displeased. “We’ll be here for hours.”

Bucky, once again, was not happy. Steve joined them on the floor with his legs out stretched and angled to the metal doors.

“You know what…I’m calling Tony.” Steve pulled out his mobile phone but you shook your head. Before he would even turn the phone on he thought the worst with your expression.

“This motel doesn’t have service does it?” Steve deadpanned as she nodded.

Bucky banged his head against the wall. “What does work in this cursed motel?”

“The shower is pretty good.” You laughed.

The two followed with chuckle. Steve dragged a hand down his face. “We really are stuck here.” He couldn’t believe it. He’s been frozen in the Antarctic in a ship and he got out of that but a horrific elevator has defeated him. A super soldier.

You looked at the two avengers and a few few thoughts that weren’t exactly nice. Let’s have a little fun, shall we?

“Wanna play a game?” You raises an eyebrow, bringing out your playful mood in this down in the dumbs melancholy the two guys have.

Steve sat up straight. “Like twenty questions?” He didn’t see the harm in it as it looks like you don’t know who they are. Just two friends and a woman stuck in a crap situation.

“What? Are we having a sleepover? No.” You rolled your eyes and laughed as you rummaged through your bag which seemed like the bag that Mary Poppin’s has. Full of mysteries, infinite and full of weird stuff.

You pulled out a Jack Daniels themed pack of cards. “You two in the mood for a game of play your cards right?” You smiled at the two.

Bucky pivoted and the three of you are now sat in a triangle. “What’s play your cards right?”

“Well, there’s a game called Higher or Lower and traditionally the first player is dealt a card. The player then guesses whether the next card will be higher or lower than the next card. If wrong, the player drinks once (because one card is showing). If correct, the player guessed again.”

You continued as they listened intently to you, they seemed to never have played such a game before. “Since we don’t have any alcohol to play with we can mix it with twenty questions. So, if you are wrong, I get to ask you a question but if you get it right – you can ask me a questions about anything. Sounds fair?”

“How will be taking turns?” Steve brought up a good point.

You took a second to think it over. “First to five and then we switch or we could play a different game if you want…”

You looked away as if you were embarrassed. “No, Doll, we’ll play. Right, Steve?” Bucky looked over at him as you brought your attention back to him.

Steve smiled. “Yeah, of course we’ll play.”

They were easy.

You smiled happily. “Great.” You pulled the cards out the pack and made sure to pull the jokers out before shuffling them.

“Jack Daniels, huh?” Bucky smirked with a raised eyebrow. That look would make any girl swoon.

You chuckled. “The pack came in a set with poker chips, and two small bottles of Jack. They went fast.”

“I bet.” Steve watched as you shuffled, he couldn’t help but enjoy your company. You were playful, had a great sense of humour and you made his best friend laugh. You were good in his books but your eyes really caught him off guard at first.

He couldn’t put a finger on it though.

You finished shuffling and you held the deck with the back to them so they didn’t see what the card was. “Just pick one card. Who wants to go first?” You were in quite the mischievous mood now.

Steve went first and pulled the card out. He wasn’t sure if he should reveal the card. You nodded. “It’s okay to tell what it is.”

“Oh, 3 Of diamonds.”

You held the deck tightly in your hands. “So, do you think the next card in this deck is higher or lower than the card you have in your hand?” He and Bucky quickly understood the game after that sentence.

“Higher.” He was pretty sure of himself.

You pulled the card off the top. “7 of spades. Congratulations, Steve. Ask me a question.”

“Why were you in the motel other than taking pictures?”

You made sure to tell as close to the truth as you could. “I’m traveling, it’s easier to stay in places like these than fancy holiday hotels and I don’t mind roughing it a bit.” It wasn’t a lie and it was not that far from the truth.

“Where have you travelled so far?” Bucky asked, he wanted to know more about her and he was sure Steve wanted to too.

You shook your head. “Ah, Ah, Ah. You have to wait your turn and one question for a one right answer.”

He rose his hands up in surrender. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Steve, do you think the next card after 7 of spades is higher or lower?”

“I can see where it gets tricky now. I want to say higher.” Steve pushed his luck.

You pulled out the card and whistled. “6 of hearts. Sorry, Steve.”

He hung his head but chuckled. “I asked for that, what’s your question then?”

You couldn’t obviously just out yourself to him and Bucky, they would put you down in a heart beat. So, you had to go in light. “What do you like to draw?”

He and Bucky both blinked confused. How in the hell did she know that he draws? “What?” Steve asked, very confused and suspicious.

“You have artist hands, Steve and you have pencil shaving stains on the side of your hands.”

That made sense. “Oh, right.” She is quite observant.

He cleared his throat. “Realism, landscapes, animals, people. That kind of thing.” He answered her with a smile. No one had enquired about his art before, not even Bucky or any of the Avengers.

“I bet you’re a great artist, Steve.”

His cheeks warmed. “Uh, I’m not sure about that.”

“He’s being modest, he’s a great artist. Never shows his pieces though.” Bucky had his back.

You smiled at the two of them. You couldn’t help but feel a mixture of blue emotions. Sadness, shame, guilt. They were people, human (to a point) too. They were more than what the media portrayed them as.

You’ll remember that.

“Bucky, pick a card, please.”

He slid a card off the top. “Queen of hearts.”

“Do you think the next card is higher or lower?”

He stated to pretend to mull it over. “Oh, I need to think about this one.”

“Okay, smartarse.” You laughed with a roll of your eyes.

He couldn’t help but love that sound and he was glad that he was the one that got that out of you. “Lower, Doll.”

“Are you talking about the card or..?” You smirked.

Steve put his head in his hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Doll, you’re such a tease.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out the next card. “8 of clubs. Ask a question.”

“What do you like to take photos of?” You were expecting a more different question.

“Landscapes mainly, forests, everyday life and sometimes other people. I use a Polaroid camera, I feel more at home with it than I would with one of those chunky Canon ones.” Bucky was happy to learn more about you even if it was just for these next few hours. They would be back on their mission and she would be on that roof and then back to travelling.

He will be sure to remember her or he doesn’t have to. Phone numbers and the 21st century make it work for long distance. He was optimistic and he was sure Steve was too.

The game higher or lower lasted an hour at best, then went to a nice game of 21 in which you had to teach them that one as well. They played several games of that one which lasted a good two hours.

They were in the middle of a game of Go Fish when your stomach made an abrupt rumble which everyone heard. There was a silence that lasted a long five to six seconds before anyone said anything.

You piped up first. “I think I might be hungry.”

“You think, Doll?” Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

Steve pointed to your back pack. “Anything in that bag of yours you could eat?”

“I honestly can’t remember.” You pulled the bag into your lap and unzipped it. You pulled out your purse, phone charger, clothes and underwear and then pulled a plastic container from the bottom that held half a ham and cheese sandwich.

“I will thank any and all God’s for bestowing this gift of food for me.” The lads smirked and glanced at each other as their minds went to a god of thunder that they knew.

They were surprised at how fast you are they sandwich. “You were really hungry.” Steve commented.

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Bucky’s eyes widened, shocked.

“You’ve gone over twenty four hours without food? How are you lucid?” Steve was worried even more now.

It was bad that they were growing attached to her, especially with the life that they lead. It’s a bad idea for any human friends or companions in their line of work. He guessed that being trapped in a steel container really bonds you with strangers.

“I have to save money.”

That didn’t seem a good enough excuse for them but it was the only one you had. “What? Can we just play now?”

A static fazed through the speakers. “Hello, are you three still okay in there?”

Bucky answered them straight away. “Yeah, just hungry, tired and in the need of a bathroom.” He hoped that would hurry it along.

“The fire department is in the building now and will be getting you out within the hour. I’m sorry for this, folks.”

The speaker was cut off after the man finished speaking. “Finally.” You breathed out.

The lads looked at you. “No offence, as much as we all are best buddies now I would really like to get out of here.”

Steve smiled. “I seconded that.”

You gathered up the cards you played with and slotted them back into the box they came in. You shoved them back into your back pack along with your plastic container, clothes, purse and phone charger.

You slowly got up to your feet and nearly stumbled. Bucky got to his feet quickly and got ahold of your right arm as Steve got your left. “Thanks, lads.”

Looking at them now, you really enjoyed their company. It would be disappointing and sad to get out of this elevator and that would all change. They would continue their chase after you and you would escape out of their clutches. The elevator was a safe space, a neutral zone without them knowing it was. You were just some unlucky woman with a dark secret that got trapped in an elevator with two super soldiers.

“I have an idea.” You spoke up and pulled the back pack to your front as you caught their attention. You opened up your bag and pulled out your Polaroid camera.

You looked at them both. “Want a photo for the road?” You genuinely smiled at Steve and Bucky.

“Of course, (Y/N).” Steve moved closer to her.

As did Bucky. “Go ahead, Doll.”

You put them either side of you, like you began before you entered the elevator, but closer so they would be in the whole shot with her. You turned the camera lens to yourself and took three separate photos.

One for yourself, one for Bucky and one for Steve.

“Just shake them until you see the photo develop.” They did just that and watched fascinated as the photo of the three of them in the elevator came to view. This was definitely an experience they would never forget.

A clang of metal on metal rang in the air. A few minutes went by with clang after clang. The metal doors were pulled open by firefighters and they got you out first and then Steve and Bucky, not that they needed the help to get out.

“Cap! Barnes! There you are, you got yourselves stuck in an elevator. Didn’t you jump out of a glass one before?” That was Tony Stark’s voice.

Your heart dropped as his eyes set on you.

“You got the girl, too?” Steve and Bucky turned with genuinely shocked expressions, then they turned not so happy.

“Now, this is awkward.”

#bucky barnes #fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #the winter soldier #captain america #tony stark #fanfiction #marvel fics #mcu #steve rogers x reader #iron man #reader insert

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markie-girl · 6 years ago

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Honeymoon Times

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Words: +5k

_______________________________

“OMG! It's been a while since I've been here" you said with exciting hugging the guy next to you, "You've been here last year," he replied, "Yes, but it was for five days, for business and without you" you answered exciting, "Well, I hope you planned it right" he said smiling to you.

"Have you visit here before?" you asked after a few long seconds of silence. "Yes when I was young, but it's better to be here with someone who used to live here" he said winking at you, "Do you remember that we're going to meet my friends too? They planned a party for us" you mention to him,

"Does HE will be there too?" he asked. You could sense concern in his voice. "I believe so, he still is their kids' uncle," you said and quickly added smiling at him "He won't do stupid things since I told them to control him before"

"Yes, I don't want to start fighting him because he'll try to hit on my wife" he said holding your hand tightly.

"MARK! Don't worry, I'm already married to you and around them he'll behave" you snapped on him "besides Donna also invited others like James, Sara, Dave, Stefan, John and more people for you to meet for the first time" you said trying to relax him, "That's cool" he smiled to you, "They are all musicians too"

"Ok, so what we are doing today?" Mark asked changing the subject, "Well, first we need to get up from bed and then we'll walk to Oxford Street" you said, "Are we taking the Tube?" he asked, "No, we can walk there" you replied.

Mark looked at his phone searching on google maps. You wondered if he doesn't trust your familiarity with the area. "But according to google maps, it's thirty minutes walking" he said whining, "Don't you trust me? It will take exactly fifteen minutes top to get there" you replied laughing at his expression

"You’re the boss here" he said giving up, "I'm the boss, the boss, I'll make you feel this vibe… I'm the boss, the boss I am your stereotype" you started singing and laughing at the same time, "We said no K-Pop music for our honeymoon, that's including also C-Pop!" he said with fake anger in his voice, "But it's Yixing" you faked whining voice, "Same!" he said laughing.

"Should I put British ones?" you asked Mark since you needed some music this morning. "Could be better" he said and got up from bed to shower. You put the music on and looked at your suitcase to decide what you should wear until Mark will get out of the bathroom.

When you both were ready you left your hotel suite.

"So, how do we go to Oxford Street?" Mark asked intrested. "Let's put a timer, and I will show you how quick we will get there" you said proudly. Mark nodded pressing the 'start' bottom, "Let's go" you said and start walking straight until you got to Russell Square, and than turning left.

"Google maps says to go to the Tube" Mark stated suddenly, "I thought I lead the way now" you replied to him keep walking, "You are the boss" he said following you without understanding how you both would have gotten to Oxford-street, in the meantime you walked left through another ally.

"When will we arrive?" he asked making you feel like you were walking with a child. "well, we're going to see Oxford street in a two-three minutes maximum, so stop whining and keep going" you said laughing, "Ok, it’s been now five minutes since we started walking" he mentions, "If you'll keep stopping we'll never going to get there in ten or fifteen minutes" you said getting a little annoyed by his words.

You kept walking on the road until you saw the sign of "Tottenham" Tube, a few steps later you saw the "Primark" sign. "We are here," you said smiling, "I want to see the sign that said 'Oxford street'" he responded with devilish eyes, "Look up and stop the timer," you said pointing it at the sign of the street. Mark stopped the clock and looked to the sign you were pointing smiling, "How long?" you asked wondering if you made it on time, "Wow! 12.42 minutes" he said surprising, "You're such a dork sometimes" you told to him with a smile, "I am your dork, and you stuck with me forever" he said smiling

You laugh at his cheesy line and pull him close to you. Through the walking and talking, you stop at some stores and bought stuff that you wanted until you reached to the Big Bang. You took pictures of Mark and you then you went to the London Eye taking some pictures of the view and explaining Mark what he was looking at.

You suggest to him that it would have been better if you would have bought good sit tickets for musical and there is only one good place to do it but you both need to walk backwards, he nodded with silently in agreement.

"Don't worry, after we'll buy the tickets we can go to the British Museum and after that, we can relax all evening at our hotel suite" you said to him. You saw that he didn't like that long walking with bags after long flight with just four hours of sleep, even if it was business class, also you wanted to have more time with him although you might sleep early and he won't be able to see what you bought only for him, only for his eyes.

"Yes, it sounds like a good plan princess" he said smiling to you. You were about to enter to Starbucks again to buy hot chocolate because you had enough from all the coffee, until Mark pull you closer to him "enough with the coffee, you already drank four cups since we got up"

"I actually want hot chocolate, it's been a while since I drank it, and I just remember that we are in London and I love their hot chocolate with my chocolate-chip cookie," you said imagining the taste of them both in your mouth

"Ok, but that the last one for today, the next hot drink, if you want, will be tea, you know that caffeine isn't good for the health. Buy me one too!" he called when you were about to enter the store you sign him that you got his message and went to order it.

When you got to Leicester square, you discussed with Mark which musical you both should watch, which in the end was "Wicked". After buying good seats you walked to the British Museum, you told Mark that it will be better if you'll part your visit there since it's a huge place and even if you'll go twice you won't finish seeing all of it. He agreed so you only saw ancient Greece and ancient Egypt areas. Mark liked it very much and it surprised you when he saw the mummies it was so funny to watch him get excited and disgusted at the same time. That is why you took some videos of him and photos. When you arrived back to the hotel, you order dinner in your suite.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Time flew quickly and it was already the party day. You were worried about this since you knew that your ex-boyfriend, who also used to be your fiancé, was there too.

Mark, until not long ago, knew him only as your ex-boyfriend and you needed to tell him two weeks before your wedding since you ran off fast, or better took a flight to your original country. You texted your friends and asked them if he will be there for sure, still having a little hope that he may not show up. Sadly, they told you he would have been there, but they mention to you that they already talked to him and explained to him that you are married now so he is not allowed to do stupid things because if he will, they will kick him out of the party, and he agreed to it. You were relieved a little but still worried because it would have been the first time Mark would have faced him, knowing what happened in the past.

"Princess, are you ready to go?" he asked you touching your shoulder which made you jump a little "you are still worried I will kick his ass or you worried he'll do something stupid?" he hugged you from the back kissing your cheek "it will be ok, I told you I won't do anything to provoke him"

"I think you don't need to do it, it might be just by seeing us together and our rings" you said turning to him and hugging him "are the bags ready?" you ask changing the subject "there are supposed to be ten or eleven bags" you said.

"everything is ready, it's just my wife is so worried instead of having fun with her friends and her husband" he said smiling to you "also, I hope you're not ashamed of our marriage, I'm daring you to take off your rings, those ring symbol us as married couple so –"

"Do you really think I will take it off?" you said shocking "there is no way I will do it ever, he can go to hell if it bothers him, he was stupid and lost me" you said bravely and changed quickly subject "well, we do have to go now or we might get there late, have you called the reception to find us a taxi? By the way, you take five bags and I take five bags it's too heavy"

"Yes, and ok although I don't like the idea you carry it. Why did you buy so many things for the kids?" he asked very curious, you remember he never saw you buying so many kids toys, Disney dolls, kid clothes and costumes "it was really funny to see you buying kid stuff, I wonder what will happen when it will be our kids" he couldn't stop laughing

"The kids see me only on face time and once in a while I see them and give them a huge hug as their aunt that lives so far away" you said smiling "well, about our kids shopping I am pretty much scared to think about it, there is so many cute kids and babies stuff"

When you arrived at Henry and Donna's house, the kids run toward you greeting you. You almost fell down laughing at their reaction to you. "Kids! Let aunt Y/N get inside the house first, you can jump on her inside, come-on" Donna said and came to you "Y/N, get inside or else it will be hard to hold them for long, they missed you so much" she said smiling.

"Is that my little girl Y/N?" said a voice behind you "it's been a long time since we saw you last. You got taller and even prettier" the voice kept teasing you "oh, you brought a friend" you started laughing "Don't tease her too much Michel, we don't want to see her angry, this party if for her" said female voice to him

"Sara is right Michel, listen to your wife" you said laughing. Suddenly you felt someone trying to get your attention when you looked down you saw Lily. "Lily? Is that you?" you asked the little blonde-haired girl with blue eyes who were looking at you. She nodded and you took her in your hands "You grew up so fast, now you are a big girl," you told her kissing her cheek "Maybe you should call Daniel, Allen, Jane, Cooper, and Lia" you suggested "and I will give you the presents" she was so happy and asked you to let her down to go fast to the kids that were playing in the living room.

"Kids, you have to promise me you'll be nice to uncle Mark" you told them "he also has some of you presents" they were walking to him and pushing him to you say in a cute way "uncle Mark… auntie said you have presents for us" he laughs about their cuteness and says to you "I get it now when you said you can't resist their cuteness" you looked at him with knowing eyes saying 'I told you so'

After you and Mark gave the presents to the kids and they let you go without keeping jumping on you saying thanks and kissing you and Mark, you went to the kitchen to grab something to drink when everyone was outside at the BBQ waiting for the food to be ready, you could hear them talking and laughing including the kids, you were so happy that Mark felt welcome and could hold there without you. You turned on the water heater since you wanted to make a cup of tea, but you felt someone was behind you when you pour the water to the cup.

"Very not British of you not to put milk too" the voice said "you used to love it a few years ago" he kept speaking, you tried not to look at him or get close to him "are you scared looking at me? What's wrong with that guy? Why suddenly he has a ring?" you could smell the alcohol from him

"Henry said me that he told you," you replied still not looking at him, instead you looked at the cup. "told me what?" he replied, "He's not my boyfriend anymore" you said quietly, "what do you mean not your boyfriend anymore?" he was shocked now and starting to get angry.

"John he is my husband we got married a month ago, we are here for our honeymoon, why do you think we are celebrating here?" you talked back loudly towards him "Do you think we ever had a chance to get back together? Really? After we got engaged and you cheated me? John, a girl will never do that, a girl will never get back to someone that cheated on her when they were engaged" you said taking a breath "even if I wasn't married or having a boyfriend I wouldn't go out with you, you belongs to my past now. I am a different person, I've changed in those years that passed. I don't love you anymore it took me a year to get over you and gladly the moving from here was a good timing"

"But Y/N, I always loved you. I never wanted to let you go" he said to you, at this point you started laughing "What's funny?" he asked, you respond "well, I'm not going to talk to you about the past, I have a better life now. I have a husband who loves me a lot who cherish me, he's the only guy for me" at that moment he got closer to you, he caught you in his hands looking at you saying "Do you really think he loves you better than I am?" he asked "do you think he fucks you well as I used to?" he whispered to you

"Can you please stop arresting my wife, you should be really careful in what you're saying to her" Mark voice was behind him "and to be honest, cheating is not cool, so I suggest you won't do it to your next girlfriend" John took a step back and looked at Mark "Do you think you better than me?" he asked Mark, "I don't think I'm better than you" he said "I know I am"

At that point, John tried to hit Mark with a box. "HENRY!!! MICHEL!!! STEFAN!!! PLEASE COME FAST!!!" you screamed, you tried to hold John and pull him off Mark, but both of them were too strong each of them wanted to show how manly they are, a few seconds pass and the boys were in the kitchen separating Mark and John. You looked at Mark's face to see he if is ok, he has an injury at his face and you got angry, very angry. You hear someone, maybe Michel, murmuring that you're mad. You walked toward John, who was held by Stefan, and slaps his cheek so hard that if there were more people inside the house they could hear it

"How dare you to touch him? How dare you to leave an injury on his face? Unlike you, he has a carrier. You, on the other hand, started to perform with unknown and so-called band, I really hope for you that in this week and a half of MY HONEYMOON it will disappear or else –" you haven't finished the sentence "I better shut up for now and hope well for you" you turned to your husband hugged him and kiss him, murmuring things in Korean so no one there can understand you both.

The rest if the evening went well, the kids kept you and Mark busy, no mention of what happened before. Mark tried to reassure you he is ok, but you still wanted to punch John again. The boys talked to him after you left with Mark outside and put some ice on the punch he got. From time to time you talked to Mark in Korean to check if he needs something and he kept replaying you in English.

"Y/N stop talking to him in korean we want to know what you both talking about" Stefan said laughing, "She just checking if I'm ok, and I am" Mark replied "you can try to make her stop, but she's worried so she won't " he said and they both laughed, "wait, did I become the joke now?" you asked smiling to them "Maybe" Stefan said, "what's wrong if the wife is worried about her husband well been hoping his manager and his group leader won't kill her bringing him back with injury" you said, "She kind of right boys" stated Henry behind you "he still famous singer" he kept saying and you laugh "singer? More like a rapper, by the way, Mark I wonder what will happen if I told Jackson what happened" you said teasing him "then for sure he would be dead" all of you laugh so hard.

You decided to go inside the house to call your friend and tell her what's happened although you agreed with Mark no communication with friends and family out of England. When you were about to press call, Allen was next to you "aunt Y/N" he said quietly to you, "what is it, Allen? Is everything alright?" you asked him "Yes aunt Y/N, we just want you to read us a book or two before bed" you were amazed by his request "of course, I will bring tea and come to your room, is everyone in your room or at the basement?" you asked him "basement" he replied "ok, so choose a book or two and I'll come in a minute" he nodded and run away.

You made you tea and left the kitchen to reach the kids. They were already under the blankets talking to each other and waiting for you. "AUNTI" the said together and gave you one book of "The dinosaur who pooped a planet" you started reading that book, you saw that Lily and Allen were already fast asleep when you finished that book, you took the other book "The dinosaur that pooped bed" you started reading, before finishing reading you saw that everyone was asleep. When you raised your head you saw Mark looking at you with admiring eyes. You hushed him and leave the book on the table nearby and left the basement.

"Wow, you sure are a good aunt" he said to you, hugging you close to him, "thank you" you replied giving him a pack on the lips "let's go, I'm already tired" you said, "yes, that's why I looked for you", you hold his hand and went up. "Henry, Donna" you called "the kids are sleeping and I think we'll go," you said, "are you planning to go to the park this week? If yes so we can come with the kids" Sara said, "Yes, to Kensington garden maybe in two days not sure, but when I'll do I make sure to text you guys, thanks for hosting us, I missed you so much and you all welcome in our house anytime" after you and Mark said goodbye you left to the hotel suite and fell asleep immediately.

The days pass quickly, it was your last three days in London you showed Mark so many things and even went to Greenwich and you bought so many souvenirs for friends and family in Korea, one of the things you got there was a keychain that shows dates and years, futures and past. You and Mark decided to have a lazy morning in bed and sleep a lot because you both love to sleep. Throughout your sleep, you could hear the vibration of a phone, you opened your eyes and reached to Mark's side table to check his phone, but it was not his. "That's yours, put it on silence!" he murmured from sleep and turn to the other side. You laugh at yourself and took your phone you only saw the number but you did not recognize it so you decline the call. A few seconds later it started again, so you got up from the bed and went to the living room of the suit

"It's about time you will answer, I hope the marriage hasn't changed you" the voice said from the other side, finally you realize who you're speaking with "James, is that you?" you ask, "Finally you remember who I am" he laughed, "Omg James, so nice to hear your voice, have you change your number? How is lil Morris? And Rory?"

"Ya! Who are those guys you're talking about?" It was Mark voice coming from behind you "tell me!" he demands. "James, wait a second Mark woke up now because of you" you said laughing. You hear James laughing and turn to Mark, "its James you met him at Henry's house, Rory and lil Morris are his brothers, we're just good friends, and I think his house in LA is at the same area your parents live" you told him. You return to your conversation with James "so Jamie what do you want?" you asked, "just wanted you and Mark will go to the park for some chilling together and maybe writing a little bit" he said quietly the last part "so that's what you want" you said knowingly "I will tell you what I want, what I really, really want" you laugh "spice girls, impressive. And for your wish I will get back to you with a text, I need to talk to Mark first" you said "awesome, Cya later sis" he said and hang up.

"So what does he want?" Mark asked quickly after you hang up. "He wants us to go to the park for chilling and he wants me to help him write," you replied "But it's up to you if you want to go" Mark was thinking for short minutes "If you want too, it's already nine in the morning and I thought we'll have lazy morning, but I don't mind" he said smiling to you "also, what writing are you talking about?"

"In the past, we used to write some songs, but like weird ones, about one of his bandmate since he was fucking every 'hot' girl he saw" you said laughing and remembering those time. "Y/N, that’s weird," he replied with a disgusted look. "It isn't, Dave liked it and loved to sing it"

"Wow, I will tell Jaebum you're writing we'll see what he will do, since when won the lottery?" he asked laughing. "Almost a month ago when I said 'I do' and wore white"

Mark and you went to the part to see James. You made sure everyone know you'll be there so they can come up with the kids and have good times which became to be a huge picnic in Kensington Gardens. It was like in the old times you all were sitting together some were chatting about life and life's problems. Some were playing the kids. You, James, Mark and Henry were sitting close to each other in a circle, James with his guitar playing randomly on the guitar. James showed you what he and Stefan had started so you tried to keep it with him, after thirty minutes you all decided to leave it be and sing some of the old songs. You were there until mid-noon.

"It was fun, wasn't it?" you asked Mark while you were walking to your hotel through Oxford-street. "Yes, it was a great time, also seeing you really happy. I wished we could come visit here more often since you looked so relax" he replied to you, "Yes, I missed them, I grew up with them, I used to go with them to tours if I was in a break from studies" you signed, "Yes, that James guy is so weird but he's cool" he comments, "Cool? I wouldn't say so, but he is clever" you said and shut your mouth for a second, something was wrong with what you said and you could not tell what. "Clever?" Mark said trying to copy the British accent that split to you. "Sorry, I couldn't control it" you said laughing, "anyway, he is smart. I hope he'll find a good girl". Through your walking to the hotel you saw Starbucks store near the tube station so you decided to but yourself a drink "Mark, do you want something? I want hot chocolate," you asked, "Didn’t we agree only tea for you?" he answered "I haven't drink it in a few days!" you complained, "Well, I want iced Americano" he said not replying about the hot chocolate you want. You order first for Mark than for you. "I think that's the best vacation I've had, my beautiful wife and her hot chocolate, amazing city, nice company, good coffee and two weeks of freedom" he sighs, "I didn’t order hot chocolate, I order twinning breakfast English tea" you said taking a sip from your drink. "Really? Why?" he asked surprisingly, "because I lost the willing for it, also it does better if I'll drink tea" he gave you a peck on the lips and smile. "you don't have to look too happy"

When you were at your hotel room lying in bed watching some British Entertainment TV show while making out a little bit. "I don't think I'm ready to go back home" you said whining "I don't think I'm ready to share you again yet, but we do need to go back to reality" Mark replied you. "Do you think your fan will notice your ring?" you heard your worried voice asking "Well, I don't know. They might but I do wear rings and usually they are almost the same, some that my friends bought me before moving to Korea, but I will ask PD-nim what can we do" he said hugging you closer to him. "If it makes it harder maybe it will be better if you'll remove it" you said "That's never going to happen like I don't want you to remove yours"

At the Heathrow airport, you were sitting with Mark at the Starbucks sitting area, you order hot chocolate for you and some iced coffee to Mark. he wasn't happy that you drink it. "Don't worry, it's my last cup until next time" you said smiling at him, "I know, do you want to go to the first class lounge?" he asked you. "Yeah, I think it better for both of us, also we can talk in a little more private" he took your hand and went with you to the direction of the lounge.

"Y/N? is that you?" you heard a voice behind you and Mark, you turned around to see who was it. "Oliver? Is that you?" you asked trying to recognize the person in front of you and Mark, "Y/N! I'm so happy to see you, how are you? what are you doing these days?" he asked so fast. "Well, as you know I left long ago and my parents moved to the states for short time than to Korea for one year, the short story I was here to celebrate my honeymoon with my husband Mark" you said and introduce Mark to Oliver. They both shake hands. "Wow, congratulations! She is an amazing person, you won the lottery" he said, "I know, I love her so much. How do you know each other?" Mark asked, "Well, I'm a musicals actor, she used to see lots of musicals and used to see musical I was participated in, I think the first one was Wicked, right Y/N?" he said smiling showing his dimples, "Yes, then Rock of Ages with Shane Ward, are you still in touch with him?" you asked, "Yes, we hang out from time to time. I will tell him I met you and said 'hi', he will probably freak out, you must visit again soon" he said, "we'll do our best, I promise to the boys' children I will come again, by the way, where are you going? Where are your wife and kids?" you said, "How did you know that I have a girl and not just George? They started our family vacation in Barbados, so I'm joining them today" he said, "Oh cool, and for your question, once a fan always a fan. I do try to keep track with you on twitter" you said smiling. "That's your story with everyone? Should I get jealous?" Mark asked laughing, "Olly, we need to take a picture so you'll show Shane you saw me, we can make him a clip so he is more jealous. Mark says so because I was his fan too" you said explaining what Mark meant.

Mark took a picture of you and Oliver, then you took a picture all the three of you. Oliver and you made a short clip for Shane also a clip to Rachel –Oliver's wife, they announce on the airport that the boarding to Barbados is starting so you hugged Oliver and said goodbye inviting him to visit with his family in Korea and text you.

After Oliver went, you kept going with Mark to the lounge. "We need to talk about what will happened when we land" Mark said, "I know, you should talk to PD-nim" you said "I don't want anything to happen to you I think it will be better if I will leave alone, but I don't want you to go alone home" Mark said worried, "well, make PD-nim organize the car with bodyguards and I can go with my car at the parking lot" you said. Mark turned on his phone called his PD-nim telling him about what you agreed, "PD-nim said it's a good plan, and we should do it" Mark said, "Good, so I'll see you after a while at home?" you asked winking with a smile to him, "Yes, I still don’t like it" Mark said, "Oh, I think it will be better you ask him about the ring" you said, "I'm so happy that you want me to stay with the ring on, I know that it's because I ask you to do the same" he said, "Yeah, but I think men with wedding ring is really sexy, especially when that man is mine!" you said, "I swear I fell in love with you again now, but don't dare to look at other men" he said, "I have the pretty one, who cares about other"

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Note: Thankyou guys for waiting so long for it! I just want to thank @weirdsofagirls for helping me with grammar and been there for me while writing it! Love ya girl <3 and I appreciate it. You also should check her page, she’s writing an amzing fiction on EXO Suho!

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