#fuck you bridget. we would have been friends. we had so much fun that day. i didnt care abt grades or what side of the tracks u were from

[ooc-themis-cattails]

School is NOT fun if you are gifted. I don't know what kind of person thinks high school is "the best time of your life," but it's sure not gifted kids.

We were bored out of our minds in the same prison hell as the rest of you, and the only difference is that we were the ones who got beat up and had no allies. It was never the cool teachers that liked you, but the unpopular ones, the ones that everyone knew picked their nose and flung the boogers at the class (though you have never actually seen it happen yourself). They would come up to you in the cafeteria in front of everyone and act like you were their best buddy, and you would want to die and sink into the floor. The cool teachers liked the funny kids, not the smart kids. When you got praised by Mr. Yorty, you wanted to disappear.

Being called smart wasn't fun; that was the opening reassurance of parent-teacher conferences before they tore into you for being inattentive or absent-minded (to you the teachers are repeating old lessons you've heard before), "not a team player" (it's hard to assign partners outside your skill level), "time waster" (because you doodled on your worksheet when you finished early), and whatever other personal flaws you might happen to have. Everyone knew you were smart. Teachers pointed it out to you so often, it was like being told you're exceptionally short or tall-- you know, you know, it's meaningless. You're not eager to hear that or interested in hearing that. All you want is for the day to pass so you can go home. As for friends, you had a choice of like 3 people who were also smart and who you could trust not to be jealous of you. One of them is an asshole, and another one you can't stand to be around because their BO makes you ill. Maybe you and the remaining kid will be friends, if you're compatible and lucky. You might not even be the same gender. You'll be friends anyway, even if your parents aren't happy about it; you can't afford to be picky. Sometimes there'd be a new kid, but even if you spent the first day being their new friend, the next day they learned you were unpopular and turned against you and made fun of you. You learned not to make friends easily or trust anyone. It was pretty lonely and you never knew when everyone's fun game was going to be picking on you for the rest of the day.

Parent/teacher expectations scaled to their skill level. I don't know what non-gifted kids' parents expect of them. Mine wanted me to get on the highest honour roll (requiring all A's) because the fact that I was always on the honour roll (requiring one A and no less than a C) wasn't interesting or meaningful because it had always been true forever. If you don't have to work hard, then everyone expects you to work VERY hard, because they know you didn't work to be good, and yet they can't help seeing you as a hard worker because you're good. If your parents ever promise you a reward, they're not asking you for an A on the exam, they're asking for a 4.0 GPA. Do gifted kids have to work hard for that? Yes, we are not born knowing the exports of Urugay, and we don't like doing 50 math problems any more than you do. Did we get better jobs than you? We did not. We are all working call centers and retail and service jobs. The kids who grew up to have good jobs were the ones who were maybe a bit above average, had amazing social skills, and could make employers like them and believe in them.

is there a word for “i was instantly good at a lot of things as a quote-unquote gifted child, and, as a result, i was able to skate by without ever being taught how to actually learn a new skill, and now that i’m an adult trying to learn new things that i can’t be good at instantaneously, i don’t have the patience or knowledge to improve on them, because skills that don’t come naturally to me just make me angry because i lived off instant gratification my whole childhood due to not ever being challenged intellectually or taught basic learning skills?” asking for a friend

[mrlivingdude]

It hurts never being able to step in to help someone out of your own worry. I'm just gonna yap for a bit bout somebody don't mind me.

They've literally been one of the best people in my life, and maybe it's cause I don't talk to many people, but I feel like we have fantastic chemistry she's funny, like so funny actually we have like the exact same humor and I fucking love that, we talk about music so much and that fills me with fucking joy to have somebody as great as her to do that with, she's affected me vocabulary and made it so much more entertaining, like I've started using :3. Fucking :3. If you knew the kind of person I was like a month before I met her you'd be caught so offguard by that. Hearing her talk about her interests makes me really happy, even if I don't understand anything at all, cause it's just so nice seeing people be so passionate?? Like in general but also Pokémon is fucking Pokémon how is that not fun, and then Guilty Gear has witewawwy got Bridget, Ky, and May and I love them for that. ALSO WE BOTH LIKE TYLER AND SKULLGIRLS I DON'T THINK SHE LOVES TYLER AS MUCH AS I DO BUT IT STILL MAKES ME SO HAPPY HAVING SOMEBODY TO SHARE MY SKULLGIRLS TEMPLATES WHO SEEMS LIKE THEY ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT LIKE THANK YOU BRO AND ALSO SHE INSPIRED ME TO GO BACK TO THE ESTATE SALE AGAIN AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH MORE NOW AND JUST THE FACT SHE ALSO LOVES TYLER JUST MAKES ME SO FUCKING HAPPY AHHHH I WOULD HAVE NO PROBLEM WITH EVIL BLAHAJ'S THAT TOTALLY EXIST AND POKÉMON FLOODING MY TIKTOK PAGE I'M JUST SAYING I'D BE LYING IF I SAID FOR THE FIRST FEW DAYS AFTER THE CREATION OF THEM SPOTIFY PLAYLISTS I HAD A CRUSH ON THEM BEFORE REALIZING THEY'RE JUST A REALLY GOOD FRIEND DAWG

uhhhh

I got a bit crazy there.

But uh

I hope the stars align, and that you see this Brig. Sorry I'm too much of a coward to say it to your face

[artificialqueens]

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re just friends, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m joking, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smug wee gits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh there’s a next time, is there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s sure the feeling will pass, anyway.

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

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

It’s just a pity that it isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tayce splutters. “Of course it was.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean Bimini?”

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

“You never said me.”

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

She looks gorgeous for it regardless.

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

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

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

A’whora rolls her eyes. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Tayce.”

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

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

“You’re welcome. Slag.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just continue the joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Behave,” Tayce warns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s definitely turned her on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it?”

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

“Tell me how much.”

“Tayce, please-”

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

It does.

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

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

Knock-knock-knock.

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well. They know.”

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as they get to keep doing this together.

[yikesharringrove]

Can we please have billy being forced to tag along to a drag show and sit in the first row for his birthday and Steve performing and billy falling head over heels in LOVE as soon as he sees him? I need this in my life lol

I may or may not be working on a drag au

I laughed really fucking hard when I thought of Steve’s drag name.

-

“It’s not everyday that our wittle baby Billy turns twenty one!”

Billy grimaces and pulled his face out of Heather’s grip.

His little group of friends had accosted him when he got home from work, kidnapping him for a barhopping excursion.

Billy was more than a little drunk, and more than a little tired.

“Look, I got class and shit tomorrow. Lemme go home.” He pouted at her. She just playfully pouted right back.

“We got one more place, Billy please?” She made her eyes all big, and Billy rolled his, giving in.

So next thing he knows, he’s being forced up against the edge of a stage in a dimly lit club, and there’s a wad of cash in his hand, and he’s thinking if this is a strip club I’m gonna brain myself on the edge of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and all you fuckers in between!” A voice from offstage boomed through the speakers. “Please give a warm welcome, to Bridget Tara Bithia!”

Billy barked a laugh at the name, the play on Bridge to Tarabithia, that fucking kids’ book that made him cry in the fourth grade. He could guess what was coming.

The song began with a steady beat, and Billy laughed again.

Whores in this house, there’s some whores in this house.

The drag queen strut onstage to the beat of the music.

She hit the center of the stage just as Cardi B. began singing on the track.

I said, certified freak, seven days a week, wet ass pussy, make that pull-out game weak.

She was wearing a dark pink leaotard, cut high on the hips to show off her padded ass, her little cinched waist. Her legs looked miles long in the black thigh high boots. Her dark brown ponytail was down to ass as she started dancing along to the song.

She was fun to watch, a captivating performer that could dance as well as the women in the video for the song she was performing.

Billy held up some of his tip money, cheering wildly as she sank into a spit in front of him, shaking her ass in the split while she accepted the money, smiling coyly.

It was fucking fun, watching the drag queen dance around to the song.

She worked the floor, doing the dance from the music video, grinning whenever anyone cheered for her, tucking the dollar bills she collected into the tops of her boots, the leg holes on her leotard.

The song went into the final chorus, and Billy hollered as she finished out the song, rolling her body to the fading music.

She smiled brightly as she collected all her tips scattered about the stage, winking at Billy when he tossed her a twenty dollar bill.

She waved as she left the stage.

Billy didn’t bother watching the next performer, pushed out of the crowd and made his way to the bar.

He was absolutely hoping she would come out into the club.

He nursed a beer for a few songs, startling and spilling some down himself when he saw her.

She had changed into a short mini dress, skin tight and beautiful.

She was chatting animatedly to a pretty blonde girl as they made their way over to the bar, stopping right next to Billy.

“Um, excuse me.” The drag queen turned to him, her eyes warm. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”

The blonde slapped her arm, Bridget slapping back at her without looking, still smiling at Billy.

“Sure!” Billy grinned as she turned to the bartender. “Vodka soda with two limes please.” Billy held up his beer to indicate another.

“I’m going, elsewhere.” The blonde gave Bridget a meangingful look, jerking her head at Billy.

“Yes, okay goodbye.” Bridget smiled softly at Billy. “Sorry about her.”

“No, that’s cool. Really loved your performance, by the way.” A little blush dusted her cheeks.

“Thank you. This is actually like, my biggest show ever.” Apparently a fairly famous drag queen was in town, gonna be performing after a few local girls. “I haven’t been doing drag for very long.”

“Well, I think you did great. I mean, love the song choice, and everything.” She laughed, sipping her drink while fluttering her lashes at Billy.

“That song is absolutely iconic and I want the lyrics tattooed on my face.” Billy laughed, tossing his head back before extending a hand.

“I’m Billy.”

“Steve. Or Bridget. Don’t really know which one to say ever.”

“I can vibe with Steve.” Billy winked, made Steve’s flush go that much deeper.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Harry!” You call for him from the bathroom. Saturday morning, the day of your house warming party. “Harry Edward Styles!”

He comes running in from the kitchen, almost slipping since he had socks on his feet. You were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“What? What is it?”

“You just haaaaad to fuck my neck up last night, right? You couldn’t have taken your fucking rings off?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining while I was doin’ it.” He says with a smirk.

“Couldn’t exactly talk, could I?”

“I never choke you hard enough that you can’t speak, come on.” He steps into the bathroom to look at the bruises on your neck. “Shit.”

“See!” You groan. “I wouldn’t care, but it’s too hot to wear a scarf, and you know, my entire fucking family is coming later. I can put some makeup on, but it’ll only help so much.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No…” You look at him. “Ugh, why do we have to be into such hard shit, why can’t we just like do it and be dainty?” Harry starts laughing.

“Wouldn’t be very satisfying would it?” He gives your bum a smack and leaves you in the bathroom.

You sigh heavily and go out to the kitchen where Harry was making banana pancakes. You sit up on the counter next to him. You were only wearing one of his white t-shirts and a pair of his black boxers.

“You should get dressed.” He says as he flips a pancake.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you look too sexy in my clothes and I’m gonna have to fuck you, and we just don’t have the time. We have to eat, get dressed, and then go to the store to pick up all the food we ordered for the party.” He looks you up and down. “So go change.”

“Harry…you’re standing there in a pair of boxers, and you’re telling me I need to change?”

“You have more self control than I do.” He flips another pancake.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He gets all the pancakes onto a plate and turns the stove off.You hop off from the counter and stand in front of him.

“See, I really don’t think I do. I think you have way more self control than I do.” You start palming him through his boxers.

“We really don’t have time.”

“Oh honey, I only need five minutes.”

You kneel in front of him and tug his boxers down slightly. You don’t waste anytime licking up and down his shaft. He grips the handle on the oven when you wrap your lips around his tip and suckle on it. You grip his thighs and take him deeper down your throat.

“Ah!” He moans. “Y/N.”

You swallow and he bucks his hips forward. You bob up and down on him quickly. You groan against him and cradle his balls.

“Fuck!”

He comes in your mouth, and you take all of it. You swallow with him in your mouth, and suck on him still.”

“Please.” He breathes.

You come off him and stand up. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach around him to grab a pancake, biting into it.

“Mm, so good Harry, you’re such a good cook.” His mouth hangs open. “Well don’t just stand there, we need to eat, get dressed, and then go pick up all the food.”

//

Buster was being such a good boy while you and Harry ran around getting everything together. People would start showing up in an hour or so. You were in the bathroom pressing concealer to your neck.

“Okay, how’s it look? I think with my hair down it should be fine.”

“I don’t think anyone will notice, especially since you look so cute.”

You were wearing a cute light blue sundress with small white polka dots. Harry was wearing a pair of pastel purple slacks with a white shirt tucked in. Top buttons undone so you could just see the top of his butterfly tattoo.

“God, you look handsome.”

“You don’t think I should button up a bit?”

“No the whole outfit works better this way. And your pearls look so nice with it too.”

You both walk out to the living room and wait for people to show up.

//

Niall and Sarah came over first so you’d have a buffer. The boys were talking about their upcoming trip while the two of you were outside on the balcony.

“I’m gonna say it, Harry looks really hot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” You both giggle. “He had his glasses on earlier with the entire ensemble, and oh my god, he looked like a really sexy teacher or something.”

“What is it about a man in glasses? I love when Niall wears his.”

“Hey babe?” Harry says coming out to you both.

“Yeah?”

“Erica and her boyfriend just got here.”

“Oh! Okay.” You stand up and Sarah follows you in.

You greet the two of them and start showing them around. Buster follows close next to you. Your mom and Bridget show up next, followed by your Aunt and Uncle. Kyle, Lora, and Michael are the last of your family to show up. Mariah and Rachel, Louis and Eleanor, and a few other friends all show up around the same time.

Your great uncle, his wife, and your cousins all show up as well. It was definitely a packed house. You were having a great time showing everyone around, and grateful that Buster was being so well behaved.

Erica can’t help but keep squinting at your neck. She could tell you had makeup on, but she couldn’t really understand why you would need it on your neck. She comes over closer to you to join the conversation you were in, just so she could get a better look.

“I got it for him in Aruba, isn’t it beautiful.” You were showing Louis and Eleanor the sunflower ring you had gotten for Harry.

Erica’s eyebrows raise when she looks at Harry’s rings, and then your neck. She walks away and goes to talk with Kyle. Most of the people were in the living area and balcony. Many of the kids around were playing with Buster.

“Harry, could you grab me another seltzer from the fridge?” You ask him.

“Sure! Be right back.”

There weren’t any people in the kitchen, so Erica and Kyle follow Harry in. He jumps when he sees them behind him.

“Um, hey, you guys havin’ fun?”

“Yeah, it’s a great party.” She squints at him.

“Can, I get either of you anything? The coolers should be full of drinks, Y/N just wanted hers in here.”

“Harry, we need to ask you something.” Kyle says, stepping closer to him.

“Sure, anythin’.”

“Are you hurting our sister?” Erica asks.

“What?” He looks at the two of them in complete shock. “No, why would either of you think that?”

“She has makeup all over her neck, and the spots look like where your rings would be.”

“Listen, uh-“

You walk into the kitchen.

“Babe, what’s…what’s going on in here?” You walk over to the fridge and grab your seltzer. You crack it open and take a sip.

“They asked me if I’ve been hurtin’ you cause your sister saw the makeup on your neck.” Your cheeks heat up.

“Oh my god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you two stupid? Why would we invite you all hear if he was abusing me?”

“I’ve read before that people who have been abused in the past tend to-“

“Erica, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Harry says. “I am not, and would never hurt your sister in any way.”

“Then why’s her neck look like that?” Kyle asks. You more your hair to over it more.

“Are you sure you wanna know the answer to that?” You ask with red cheeks.

“What possible other explanation could there be?” Erica asks.

“Harry, leave the room, I can’t tell them with you standing here.”

“Oh my god.” He says and leaves through the other door. You take a deep breath.

“Sometimes…when we’re intimate…Harry and I…lightly…choke each other.”

“What?!” They say in unison.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, just sometimes. And we do it to each other, he doesn’t always do it to me. It just sort of happened last night, and he forgot to take his rings off so it looks worse than it is. It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

“Who are you?!” Erica asks. “You like that sort of thing?”

“It’s really not that weird, a lot of people do it.” Harry comes back in to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is such a weird conversation. I don’t think we need to explain what goes on between us. Like she said, no one’s gettin’ hurt.”

“It doesn’t trigger you?” She asks.

“No.” You look over at Kyle who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. You both burst out laughing.

“You know what, I don’t care what the fuck you two do.” Kyle says. “Just glad you’re not beating on my sister.” Kyle says and walks out of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go see if anyone needs anything.” Harry says and leaves again.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me instead of confronting him.”

“I panicked! I feel like I don’t even know you sometimes.” She sighs.

“Erica, we’re two very different people. I’m sure there are things you do with your boyfriend…”

“How does that even come up? Like, hey babe let’s try choking each other.” You can’t help but giggle.

“It’s a heat of the moment type of thing. We talk through it, make sure the other is okay.”

“And you do it to him too?”

“Yup.”

“Jesus.”

“We like what we like, and that’s okay.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t like it? Don’t have someone choke you.” She rolls her eyes at you and you both laugh.

Luckily, that was the only hitch in the party. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. There was plenty of food, and plenty to drink. Eventually your family starts to trickle out and it ends up just being the core eight of you. You were all sitting on the floor in a circle.

“Hey! Let’s play truth or dare or something.” Sarah suggests.

“Do we have a bottle to use?” Rachel asks.

“A bottle?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, it keeps it fair. Put it in the middle and spin it.”

“I’ll grab one of the empty wine bottles.” You say, getting up to grab one from the kitchen.

“We did this at kickbacks all the time in school.” Sarah explains. You come back with the bottle and place it in the middle.

“Everyone have a drink?” You ask. “Good, this game’s more fun when you’re drunk…sorry El.”

“No worries, totally don’t mind bein’ sober.”

“Okay everyone, let’s keep it lighthearted.” Rachel says. “Fun truths only. And we play a little differently. It’s not really a dare. If you choose not to answer the question, you have to take a sip of your drink, or a shot.”

“We do have a bottle of tequila.” Harry says. “Should I just get that and we can take turns swiggin’ from it?”

“Think that’s brilliant, mate.” Louis says. Harry gets up and gets the alcohol.

“Y/N, you spin first.” Mariah says.

You tip the bottle on its side and spin it, it lands on Rachel and you smile.

“Okay, Rach, tell the story of your first kiss.” She raises her middle finger to you.

“Fine. I was twelve, it was at summer camp, and it was with a boy named Joel. We both had braces and they got locked together, so we had to walk all the way to the medical tent like idiots, and wait for the nurse to try to figure out how to get us unstuck.” The group laughs.

“When was your first kiss with a girl?” Niall asks.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not your turn yet.” She says with a smirk. She spins the bottle and it lands on Louis. “Hmmm.” She taps her chin to think of something. Harry leans over to her and whispers in her ear.

“Oi! No helpin’.”

Rachel giggles and Harry leans back to his spot.

“Louis, where is your most embarrassing tattoo located?”

Louis flips off Harry and takes a swig of the tequila. Louis spins the bottle and it lands on Sarah.

“Did you hook up with Niall the night you met?” Her jaw drops.

“That’s no secret, of course I did.” She looks at him. “Couldn’t resist.” She looks back at everyone else. “He was so charming, and such a good dancer.”

She spins the bottle and it lands on you.

“Alright, there’s a question I’ve been dying to ask since I got here.” She giggles. “What’s with all the makeup on your neck?”

You look at Harry, then the bottle of tequila. You grab it and take a swig. You were not having this conversation again. The group makes a noise and everyone laughs. You spin the bottle and it lands on Niall.

“Have you ever ripped your pants in public?”

“You suck.” He groans. “Yes, at last year’s work holiday party, I ripped my pants on the dance floor.” Everyone laughs. “I dropped it low and my pants split.” Harry bursts out laughing. “Least my pants didn’t rip so bad that my underwear ripped too and my dick popped out.” Harry shuts up immediately and Louis starts laughing.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask.

“S’not my turn.”

Niall takes the bottle and points it towards Harry.

“Elaborate.”

“Cheatin’.”

“Tell the story.”

“Oh my god, we were havin’ a party, was it undergrad or grad?” He looks at Louis.

“I can’t fuckin’ remember.” He laughs.

“Right, well, I was wearin’ a tight pair of black jeans and I opted to go commando, don’t ask me why, so no my boxer’s didn’t rip. I think I squatted and my pants ripped open and everything just fell out.” He starts laughing. “It was pretty funny, I’m just glad we were at our own place so I could change.”

“Did everyone see?”

“Just Lou and Niall.” Harry takes the bottle and spins it. It lands on Mariah.

“Oh god.”

“Did you ever have sex in the office at Plant Geo?” She glares at him and takes a swig of the tequila.

“You’re evil.”

As the rounds go on, everyone, besides Eleanor, gets pretty drunk.  The bottle lands on you again.

“Okay,” Rachel asks. “Talk about your first kiss.” You scrunch your nose.

“I was fourteen, and it was at the freshman/sophomore semi. I was nervous all night because it was also my first date. I asked him to go with me through a note.” You laugh. “It was during Stairway to Heaven, naturally. I remember we both looked each other, smiled, and Erica had told me before we left that I should never let a boy shove his tongue down my throat, so when I looked right before we made eye-contact and saw the tip of his tongue peak out, I made sure my lips were super tight. It was essentially a lip touch.” You laugh again. “And that was it, and we kept dancing.”

“That’s so cute!” Harry slurs.

“Can we just tell cute stories and take turns drinking the tequila?” Rachel asks.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.”

Everyone else tells the story of their first kiss, and then it gets to Harry.

“Took her out to this park, and we went behind a tree. It was pretty steamy.” Everyone laughs.

When it starts to get really late, everyone decides to call it a night. Louis and Eleanor were staying over with you guys.

“So.” You hiccup. “Everything you should need is in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in the fridge if you get hungry, and we’ll see you in the morning. Oh, Buster shouldn’t bother you either, he usually stays in his bed all night.”

“Thanks again.” Eleanor says. “Goodnight.”

“Night, mate.” Harry says to Louis.

“Night.” He smiles.

The two of you go into your room. You wash your face and neck. The bruises were starting to fade. You get into bed with him, and kiss for a bit. He moves his leg between yours.

“Harry.” You whisper.

“What?”

“We have guests.”

“And?”

“We can’t.”

“C’mon, I’ve been dyin’ to get in there all day. They won’t hear anythin’.”

“I don’t like having to be quiet.”

“Y/N.” He whines.

“Okay fine, but we have to stay on our sides the bed won’t creak as much.”

You flip over so your back is against his chest. He slips in effortlessly.

“You’re such a little liar, you were already wet.” He says into your ear.

“You looked so sexy today, I’m sure I’ve been wet for a while.”

He starts to rock in and out of you, his hand rubbing your clit and his other on your breast, twisting your piercing. You gasp and bite down on your palm.

“You feel so fuckin’ good.” He says into your ear, and you feel tears prick at your eyes from the pleasure. “Always so tight and wet f’me.” You groan as he drive in deeper. “Ever been so wet for someone before?” You groan your response. “Use your words, babe.”

“No, never. Only, fuck, only you.”

You start panting and push back against him, you cup your mouth over your hand as you come and his release comes shortly after. You feel his breath on the back of your neck as his breathing slows back down.

//

The next morning Harry gets up to take Buster out. Louis was in the kitchen making himself a coffee.

“Hey mate, sleep well?” Harry asks coming back with Buster.

“Yeah, bed’s super comfy. El’s still sleepin’.”

“So is Y/N, she’s real tired.” Harry winks at him.

“You slept with her while we were in the next room?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Must be nice.”

“You and El aren’t…”

“Not in a while. She’s felt…not so attractive now that her bump’s growing. Everything else is growin’ too so she just feels gross. I think she looks fantastic, but she’s super emotional from the hormones.”

“Aw man, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“She rarely let’s me touch her. I’m hopin’ once she levels out a bit she’ll feel more up to it.”

“I thought pregnant women were like always horny.”

“So did I…” He laughs. “Maybe that’ll come in the third trimester.”

“I’ll prey for you.” He makes himself a cup of coffee. “There was like two weeks once where Y/N went without doin’ it and I thought I was going to explode.”

“Two weeks? Try two months and then talk to me.”

“Two months?!”

“Shhh, do you wanna wake them up?”

“Sorry, two months?”

“Yeah, I told yeh, she’s not feelin’ great. I’ve tried everything. She’s just starting to let me cuddle her again. I’m not pushin’ it.”

“I literally don’t know how I would survive.”

“How you’d survive what?” You say coming into the kitchen with your robe on and some pj’s underneath. “Morning, Lou.”

“Mornin’, love.” You smile at each other and you go to make yourself some coffee.

“Where’s my baby?”

“I’m-“

“There he is, good morning Buster.” You rub his tummy as your coffee brews. “So, what would you need to survive?”

“Nothin’.” Harry smiles at you and kisses the top of you head.

“Where’s El?”

“Sleepin’ still…she’s been really tired lately. I’m actually gonna bring her tea into her.” He walks out of the kitchen and back to the guest room.

“This is so nice for you two, three weekends in a row you get to hang out.”

“Yeah, it’s great. I’m glad they stayed with us.”

“Me too.” You yawn. You warp your arms around his waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, perfectly fine.” He smiles.

Harry was not fine. He was suddenly terrified. He needed the camping’ trip stat. Two entire months of no contact? What if that happened to him and you when you get pregnant? Had he spent most of his adult life romanticizing the entire thing?

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Six

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The title has been taken from the Ella Fitzgerald song of the same name.

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

It’s Only A Paper Moon

WEDNESDAY

“I am in heaven.”

“Doll’, this is Y/N’s wedding, not yours.”

“We have the whole place to ourselves, I can try on one thing, right?” 

Well, the first part of that is true. Sitting on a couch not designed for sitting on, you play with your hands in your lap as your gaze travels the room. Nat had, she’d told you before you’d left that morning, bought the whole place out, for the sake of sensationalism, security and it just seemed like something a very famous person would do.

‘Sensationalism’ is so far so successful; there is a crowd of people similar in size to the one at the cake shop outside, trying to look through the French windows, though you’re located at the back of the shop. As for security, it means Nat doesn’t have to plant people inside and you won’t get crowded and overwhelmed by people coming up to you, and for seeming like something a famous person would do? Yeah, probably, you don’t know.

“Just have some fun,” Nat had said as you’d gone down in the elevator. “It’s just trying on some dresses and having a fun time with your friends.”

Fun.

You’d nearly laughed. But, you’d just smiled and nodded, because that’s what you do now, smile and nod and go along with things. If you don’t, that leads to conversations, and conversations lead to you having to admit to things, like the panic attack you’d had that morning as you’d dressed or the fact you have feelings for your best friend and every moment of this week is both wonderful and torturous. 

Speaking of... you haven’t seen Steve today.

Last night, after you’d woken up from your nap, you’d showered, masturbated while in there, ‘cause, hey, things had only gotten more stressful, and changed and wandered downstairs, but Steve was nowhere to be seen. Then you’d heard sounds of machines in the gym room and realised he was working out. He’d left a note for you on the island, though, saying there were leftovers in the oven of what he’d cooked. You’d eaten alone, watching TV.

You did that for about two hours, and Steve didn’t emerge once, still working out. You hadn’t thought anything of it, though, he is super-human. So, you’d gone to bed, leaving him a note in return saying thank you, you hadn’t wanted to disturb him and that you were going to bed, with a little drawn smiley face.

There’d been no note when you’d come down after calming yourself and pulling your shoes on, not wanting to be caught out like yesterday morning, just Nat.

But space is good for you two.

Even if you never usually go this long without at least messaging each other.

But this isn’t a ‘usually’ time.

“Y/N?”

The Christmas jazz music filters back into your hearing as your head snaps up to look at Dolly, sat on a gorgeous pale pink shell chair, her big eyes wider than usual.

“Yeah, sorry?”

Her smile is wide and her eyes seem to be only getting wider. “I can try on one thing, right?”

You nod as you smile. “Uh, yeah. As bridesmaids, you probably actually should try something.”

She releases a sound akin to a squeal and claps her hands together. “Great! What colour do you want for us?”

“Uh...” Oh, you know this, you talked about it with Nat in the car... “... Red.”

Bridget looks at you, then exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna carry on and say ‘white and blue’.”

Your lips twitch as you tilt your head. “Come on, we’re not gonna be that on the nose.”

Bridget raises their eyebrows but before they can retort a woman, Sally, appears with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside, and three glasses. All three of you give some kind of very grateful sound before thanking her as she sets them down on the glass table before you. You also all cheer as she pops the champagne, (God, who are we... desperate for free alcohol, that’s who), and thank her again as she fills the glasses and hands one to you each.

Beaming, she stands back, her hands clasped together. “Can I get anything else for y’all?”

You hum as you quickly swallow your mouthful. “Mmh. Yes, please. Do you have any dresses in red, for these two?”

She glances at them, her gaze sweeping over them and you realise she’s expertly measuring them, and nods. “Absolutely. What style would you like?”

“Uh, any, we’ve got time.”

Her beam grows as she nods. “Wonderful, I’ll be five minutes.”

You take another sip as she trots off to the back room. Much like at the cake shop, you’d said to the shop attendants assisting you, all five of them now having nothing to do but assist you, that you will try everything and anything. Like Damilola, they’d looked delighted, probably used to, as you’d seen on reality shows, people coming in with very specific requests.

And, boy, do you all have the time to try every damn thing on. Dolly and Bridget have the day off, Yvette being very understanding at the short notice, officially, though unofficially she probably isn’t too pleased to not have her best receptionist and the Head of IT on the same day.

Who am I kidding, she never breaks a sweat. Probably a good time to get those interns trained up, too.

You also have the time as you were meant to be visiting two places today, though the first hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In other words, you’d walked out.

“Oh, our, uhm, our plus-size section isn’t very large.”

You fold your arms as Bridget raises their eyebrows and Dolly narrows her eyes.

“Oh? And why not?”

The woman, Candace, looks between you, her cheeks pink. “Oh, because we, uhm...”

You raise your eyebrows, placing your hands on the counter. “I’m about to blow your mind, Candace, but bigger people get married, too. And you’ve just lost my custom.”

You’d walked out seconds after, a smug smile hinting on your lips as Candace had called after you, practically begging for you to return, that they could order whatever you wanted in, but you’d just kept walking, Bridget telling Candace to save it as Dolly looped her arm through yours.

Nat had apologised profusely once you’d gotten into the SUV she was going to spend the day ferrying you three around in, saying it hadn’t occurred to her to check, as Dolly and Bridget had stared at her, still unused to being in her presence.

Of course it hadn’t occurred to her.

This place, though, The Pearl... It’s gorgeous. Despite not having felt offended at the last place, just angry and exasperated, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. What if this was going to be your whole day? Going from place to place just because they were dumb and exclusionary? You’d felt welcomed the moment you walked in, though, all five assistants and Sally smiling as they greeted each of you in turn, and all Sally, obviously the senior member from how she led the conversation, had done was ask you your usual dress size and that had been it.

You look at the interior again, taking in the pale pink and white walls, framed photos on them of dresses or models in them, or real people on their wedding days in them, the plush cream carpet, the crystal chandeliers, the gorgeously decorated Christmas trees in each corner, the fairy lights adorning the counter by the front door.

Yeah... I can have fun here. And why the fuck not? Trying on dresses is always fun, no matter what, and there’s free champagne and I’m here with Dolly and Bridge’.

Sitting back on the pale pink couch, the tightening in your chest easing, you sip your champagne with a smile.

Am I a champagne person now? This week’s telling me yes.

Bridget stretches their legs out as they sigh contentedly. Looking at you, they smile softly. “How are you feeling about the interview?”

You pull a face as you hold the glass between both hands. “You know about that?”

“Uh, it’s been trending on Twitter for the last two days is all anyone’s talking about.”

You groan as you take another, longer sip.

“So how do you feel?” Dolly gently repeats the question.

You smile lightly, looking between them with raised brows. “How do you think?”

She smiles softly, endearing assurance in her tone. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N.”

 You open your mouth, then close it. Then again... you can talk about it freely with these two, they’ll understand without feeling guilty or worrying too much or treating you like a breakable vase.

You exhale a breath, one you feel like you’ve been holding for days. “I don’t know, it’s live and we haven’t been able to get an idea of what they’re gonna ask yet and... I just don’t want to think about it too much, really.”

Bridget rests their arm on the back of the couch, turning their body to you. “That’s not like you. I’ve watched you spend months preparing for one meeting.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” They point a finger at you. “This is a meeting, and you’re pitching your marriage.”

You have no idea how close to the truth that is.

You take a breath. “Can I practise on you two, then?”

Both of them perk up, smiles wide.

“Absolutely!” Dolly enthuses. “We’ve been dying for you to tell us all the details, we’ve been so patient.”

“And a little bit offended,” Bridget adds good-naturedly with an arched brow.

“I know, I know,” you smile, even as your chest twinges.

“It’s fine, two birds, one stone, you can make up for it now and practise,” Bridget says, holding their glass on their knee and fixing you with an expectant gaze and adopting a stereotypical news reader voice. “So, how did this happen, when was the first kiss, the first fondle, the engagement, I want every dirty detail, and the romantic details, too.”

“Okay,” you say through your laughter as Dolly giggles. “All right, all right... God, I’m gonna need more champagne.”

—

He could see the headline now; Cap Goes To Seek Former Flame’s Approval!

At least it would be better than the one’s that had been written when he’d gone on two dates with Sharon. Had that been why they’d both ended it? The media pressure, the questions, the constant hounding? No, but maybe that had been a factor in it. Sharon is great, but... He hadn’t felt a real connection, and neither had she.

He’d only felt that connection a few times in his life, so he knew when something was worth fighting for.

"Engaged, hm?” Peggy Carter fixes him with her gaze, an eyebrow arched, and, God, nothing ever passes her by, not even now.

A smile pulling at his lips, he raises his own eyebrows a little. “Peg—”

She exhales a laugh. “You can’t tell me, I understand.” Lacing her fingers together on her stomach, she smiles. “I do like her.”

“You’ve never met her,” he reminds her gently.

“I know,” she adjusts her head on her pillow, “but the way you talk about her makes me like her. How is she doing with all of this?”

He nods, his own hands clasped together. “Okay, I think. She’s tough.”

Peggy looks at him, her jaw moving minutely. “Hm.”

“What?”

Her lips lift a little, her features soft. “People called me tough. Said I handled things okay. But I can’t tell you how many times I cried in my office, then pulled myself together. I don’t mind crying, it’s very therapeutic, but I would have hated them to see me do it, hated what they would have twisted it into. Or even some of my friends, how they might have gently told me to maybe cut back my hours or something like that, to take on less. But just because I cried it didn’t mean I couldn’t handle matters.”

Steve opens his mouth when she continues, “Did you know that after you went into the ice our relationship is all anyone wanted to talk to me about? Interview me about? Even when I became Director of SHIELD the same questions followed me around, ‘What do you think Steve would think? Would he be proud? Do you still miss him?’”

Something in him twists as he looks at her. “I’m sorry, Peg.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Lord, I’m not saying it to make you feel bad, Steve, still so dramatic...” Her features soften again, but her gaze fixes on his. “I’m just trying to give a little perspective, having been in the position she is. It’s not easy.”

He exhales a long breath, his shoulders dropping a little. “That’s what I’m afraid of, actually.”

Her brow dips. “What do you mean?”

“Like you just said, it’s not easy being with me.”

“Steve Rogers...” His gaze, having lowered, meets hers again, and he finds it faintly incredulous. “... It’s the easiest thing in the world being with you. You are easy to be with. It’s the rest of the world that’s the problem.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “I liked where that was goin’ but that last part doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She huffs out a laugh, tilting her head. “But the rest of the world doesn’t matter, though, does it? Not if you’re with someone you love, hm?”

He looks at her, his lips lifting a little higher. “No, it doesn’t.”

—

“... So, it was only a couple of weeks ago... We were out at the park we like to walk in, you know the one, I go on about it all the time, the trees are always on my Instagram ‘cause it’s just so pretty, ‘nd it’s quiet, y’know, we’re in the middle of winter, and it’s dark, no one wants to really be out walking, except us...”

 You’ve had a bit more champagne than you probably should, but, hey, go away, morals, this is a nice story.

“... so we’re walking, and we’re just talking, and then we stop, and we’re looking up at the stars...”

Dolly, Bridget, Sally, and the other five shop assistants, Donna, Nicole, Max, Jamie and Priya all sigh together at the imagery, and your eyebrows raise and you nod in an expression of, ‘I know’.

“... and then he just gets down on one knee and asks me to marry him.”

They all sigh again, a couple of them putting their hands to their chests and ‘aww’ing and you nod as you sip your champagne because, yeah, that is very cute.

Good one, me.

“What did he say? How did he ask you?” Max asks, all the assistants bunched together on a long couch they’d dragged over.

You take another, longer sip of champagne because what did he say...

“... Oh, well, that’s just between me and him,” you say with a coy smile and they all boo good-naturedly.

Nice one.

“That’s such a lovely story,” Sally smiles warmly and you return it before raising your eyebrows.

“Shall we carry on trying these gorgeous dresses?”

They all cheer and the assistants get to their feet and scurry off to the back to find more for you and Dolly and Bridget. You look at your two friends, Dolly in a yellow ballgown, Bridget in a multi-coloured floral suit, and beam. You are wearing an ivory lace number that hugs your figure and then flows out just below your hips, and are trying very hard not to spill champagne on it.

The session had quickly escalated into Dolly and Bridget trying on whatever they wanted between red dresses, and you just putting on whatever was brought out. You’d told Sally you were here to get an idea of what you wanted, but that you’d be returning very soon. Nat has scheduled in another dress shopping day for Friday and you’d quickly messaged her about half an hour ago while you were changing to cancel wherever that was and make it here. She hadn’t argued.

You’re also giving little bits of details here and there to practise for the interview, your first kiss (at your place after watching a film), when you’d said I love you, (at his place after having dinner and watching a film together), and the story of how he proposed. You’re going to have to remember all this to tell Steve, though, so you keep making notes on your phone as you get changed.

You’ve also sent him a message because you still haven’t spoken.

You know he’s with Peggy, though, so he absolutely won’t be checking his phone, but... 

It just feels strange.

“Right...” Your attention comes back into the room as Sally and Jamie appear with an armful of dresses each, “... We have a vintage style one here that we think y’all are gonna love.”

Dolly claps her hands together as Bridget gasps dramatically.

“Vintage? Oh, he’s absolutely gonna love that.”

You don’t know why that makes you feel warm. It’s not like he’s actually going to see you in it... Unless...

—

“... Thank you so much! ... We will! We’ll see you Friday!”

You have to practically drag Dolly out of the back doors of The Pearl, the three of you giggling as you wave at the assistants. Who knew you could become such firm friends with people in the space of in five hours? Well, two bottles of champagne will do that.

You’re on the higher end of tipsy, in a lovely, warm, chatty way, and you have lined your stomach and soaked some of it up, Sally having ordered you all food so you wouldn’t have to leave and 1) Face the crowd, and 2) You couldn’t be bothered to leave, really.

The crowd is also the reason you’re leaving out the back doors, none of you wanting to face the horde outside. It has grown throughout the day, people desperate to get even the tiniest glimpse of you and what you’re wearing. Priya had closed the curtains after an hour, though, and they’d had two of their security guards stationed outside the front doors and it was just bliss. You’d had the chance to forget all about the outside world and just have some fun. Moving across the staff parking lot for The Pearl and a couple of surrounding shops, people haven’t had the chance to get in because it’s guarded, and the man whose job that is looks up from his newspaper in his little station, then looks back down.

Bliss.

Nat waits for you in the SUV, those sunglasses on, one hand leaning against the steering wheel.

“Such a ‘top’ pose,” Bridget stage-whispers and you’re all falling into giggles again.

You’re still gigging as you climb into the car, you in the passenger seat, Dolly and Bridget behind you. Nat’s lips twitch as she raises an eyebrow.

“Did we all have a fun time?”

“So fun.” Dolly, who is usually the most intimidated by Nat, which isn’t surprising considering she has a crush on her and they’ve both only met her three times before, including today, launches into a glowing review of the shop and day, “Everyone was so nice and the dresses and suits and jumpsuits and shoes are gorgeous, I can’t wait until we go back, oh my God, it’s all I’m gonna think about tomorrow...”

Nat’s smile lingers on her lips as she heads towards Dolly’s apartment, Dolly carrying on for the whole journey with Bridget occasionally butting in to add a comment. You laugh the whole way, your cheeks almost hurting from how much you’ve been grinning.

Nat parks up outside Dolly’s building, and turns in her seat, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head and meeting Dolly’s gaze, which provokes a pink blush to rise on her cheeks.

“Sounds like a really good day, then.”

Dolly just nods now, swallowing lightly. “Yep.”

Glancing from her to Bridget, Nat smiles and you think you hear Bridget let out the quietest of sounds. Wanting to save them both, or maybe they don’t want to be saved, they could be loving gazing into her eyes, who knows at this point, you turn to them, too.

“Oke doke, we’ll see you later, Doll’, I’ll text you when Sam and I are on the way.”

Bridget’s eyes whip to you, their mouth dropping open. “Sam’s picking us up?!”

You can’t stop your smile from widening, your eyebrows rising. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God, right, I need to go home and get ready now, Doll’ get out, I only have three hours, oh my God...”

Dolly is laughing so hard she nearly trips out of the SUV, and one hand is on your chest as the other wipes at your eyes as you laugh. Dolly waves from the pavement as she grins before she trots into the building, and all feelings of intimidation have left Bridget as they point ahead.

“Step on it, Nat, this is a national emergency, go...”

Nat just shakes her head as she turns back around, but she’s still smiling and you’re still laughing. “All right, all right, don’t worry, hold on...”

And, boy, does she mean it.

How does she drive this fast and this safely.

—

There’s just something about getting ready for a night-out while you’re tipsy. 

Sometimes, if you haven’t had a chance to pre-drink, you have a few moments of ‘ugh, do I really want to go out, I can’t be bothered, there’s that new show out, I’m so tired, oh my God, what if I do something embarrassing...’ but now, the champagne having only worn off a little from what you made yourself for dinner, and, okay, it probably didn’t help that you also made yourself an alcoholic beverage to have with it, you’re still quite buzzed.

Steve hadn’t been home yet and Nat had left a few minutes after making sure you were inside the penthouse so you’d been able to play your music and yell along to it. You’d been able to take your time getting ready, trying on a few outfits before settling on a true classic number that makes a lot of appearances on nights out because 1) you look amazing in it, and 2) you look really damn amazing in it.

You’d even, Nat having requested it, taken a selfie once you were ready and uploaded it to your Instagram story, along with a few gifs of glasses clinking together and someone dancing.

Job done, you’d returned to the group chat you have with Dolly and Bridget and sent them the picture, accompanied with, ‘time to fuckin party’. You could send them a picture of you in a bin bag and they’d still reply with the same thing they do for every photo, and you would for them.

Bridge’ 🌟: Y E S

Dolly ✨: WHO IS SHE???

Bridge’ 🌟: INCREDIBLE, SHOW STOPPING, AMAZING, ICONIC, LIFE CHANGING

Dolly ✨: I LOVE IT

They swiftly send their own photos.

You: LOOK AT US

Bridge’ 🌟: WHO ARE WE

God, they’re great.

You ignored the slight, unpleasant flip in your stomach at seeing Steve’s message, that he sent an hour ago and you haven’t replied to yet.

I hope you had a good day, have fun tonight x

You message each other every day so you never send ‘kisses’, so this just makes you think he’s done it to soften the blow of a slightly blunt message. Is it blunt? Or are you reading too much in to it? He has had a busy day based on what Nat told you when she’d driven you to the penthouse. He was seeing Peggy all day and then going over to Bucky’s to see him, and then they are going to have their own night out.

That’s busy, right.

Whatever, he doesn’t have to reply all the time, it’s fine.

You reply:

Thanks, you too! :-) x 

Which is the kind of reply you’d give to someone at work.

You’d ignored your phone vibrating as people, strangers, react to your Instagram story, slipped it into your bag and headed downstairs.

If you were an ego-maniac, Sam’s reaction on top of your friends would just make your head explode.

“Well, hello, ma’am!”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Nu-uh, let me look at you... Wo-ow. You look amazing.”

“Stop it... but thank you, I know.”

The moment you got into his SUV, (does everyone get one the moment they join SHIELD?) he has music playing that you can both sing along and dance in your seats to. Bridget had told you to pick them up last to give them more time so you swing by Dolly’s place first and she looks gorgeous as always in a short, glittery pink dress with matching eyeshadow and lipstick, her blonde hair curled and bouncing.

You give little squeals as you see each other, despite having only seen each other a few hours ago, and she’s definitely still buzzed, too. Sam gives her the same reaction he gave you and, God, you love him.

As you pull up outside Bridget’s building, you can’t stop meeting Dolly’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, your lips twitching. She’s doing a worst job than you at hiding her smile, her hand in front of her mouth, and you’re both trying so hard to stop a laugh.

It escapes when he gets out of the car and closes the door and you’re both turning in your seats to stare at Bridget as they walk out, gorgeous as always in a buttoned up, black blazer with no shirt underneath and matching black shorts, one side of their head freshly shaved. Dolly’s hand darts out and grips your arm as Sam approaches them and kisses their cheek and they’re both smiling but you can’t hear what they’re saying and you hate SUVs, are these things sound-proof, I’ll ask Nat...

As they climb into the car, you and Dolly are staring at Bridget, smiling. They just raise their eyebrows, grinning and say, “Hey, girls.”

“Well, hello.”

“Hi.”

You have to once again stop a laugh as Sam starts to drive, turning the music up, and you were all soon yelling along to the songs.

Now here you are, at a roof-top bar, being escorted to a table that had been reserved for you. Usually, you’d go to your favourite bar opposite work but Sam had gently insisted that you move it to another place he was more familiar with and where he could have better access to an exit and eyes on you. For a place simply titled The Venue, it’s very nice up here; it’s large, fire pits and heaters dotted around so you can’t feel the cold, a stunning view of the city, low, sultry tunes playing, a dance-floor in one corner, everything either purple, red, or gold. There’s even table service, and you recognise a few people dotted around.

“Is that—”

“Oh my God, yes...” Bridget whispers back to Dolly’s question as they stare at a table a little way away.

Your lips twitch as you each take a seat at a wooden table with a candle on it, the chairs red and plush. Your server informs you that a tab has already been set up for you, so you each grab a menu and debate for a good few minutes about what to get, the server standing patiently. Settling on cocktails, the server leaves with a beam, promising to be back in a few minutes.

“God, this place is fancy,” Bridget says, turning in their seat to get another look at everything. 

“And we actually have a table!” Dolly sighs delightedly.

“Perks of being Mrs America, huh?” Bridget turns back around to look at you, their eyebrows raising with a smirk.

You snort, your cheeks heating. “Not quite yet.”

Bridget opens their mouth but Dolly gets in first, gasping suddenly. “Did you see the news by the way?”

You pull a slight face. “No, I don’t tend to look at it anymore.”

She beams, her eyes sparkling. “Well, what happened at the dress shop, at the first place, everyone’s talking about it. People are so happy you said something and brought attention to it, there’s so many discussions being had about the wedding dress industry and the fashion industry in general when it comes to plus size clothing.”

The server returns before you can reply, and as she sets your drinks down you feel heat rise on your face again as you bite at your lower lip, pride spreading through you.

Well... Great power, great responsibility... I could get all kinds of stuff to be talked about... Note to self, change world tomorrow.

The three of you take long sips of your chosen drinks, humming in delight at the taste. As you lick your lips and set your glass down, Bridget places their arms on the table and leans forward.

“Now, come on, Y/N...”

Your eyebrows raise. “... What?”

Bridget tilts their head. “What’s he like in bed.”

You give your best scandalised gasp as Dolly laughs and Bridget smirks, continuing, “He’s kinky, isn’t he? It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Bridget Sanderson,” you gasp again, even as you grin, Dolly’s laugh infectious, “A lady never tells.”

“Well, you ain’t no lady so spill.”

You take a long sip of your drink to buy some time.

Could you? Should you?

Well, I’m in this far... And they won’t let it slide...

Licking your lips, you lean forward and lower your voice. “All the details?”

Dolly giggles and claps her hands together as Bridget grins. “All of them, you saucy bitch.”

—

Who knew you were so imaginative. Who knew you could remember every detail of every fantasy you have ever had about your best friend. Who knew you could think up such filthy, delightful things. Who knew you’d start comparing these imaginings with actual things you’ve done in your life, and that Dolly and Bridget have done with their sexual partners.

Who knew all three of you could drink so much.

Sorry to whoever’s paying the tab. The government? Shit, sorry, government, no wait, no I’m not, another round!

As the server, Melanie, you found out is her name while ordering the second drink, brings you your fourth drinks, you’re currently in the middle of laughing so hard it hurts at a story Dolly is telling of a sexual encounter, tears streaming from your eyes.

“... and then...” She dissolves into laughter herself, leaning over. “... and then her cat came in and it just, it just sat on the bedside table and made eye contact with me and...” God, you bloody love her laugh. “... she was doin’ such great things and sayin’ such good dirty talk but all I could do was stare at this cat and I just felt like apologising to it... and then it just started licking itself!”

Bridget is practically curled up in their chair as they laugh and you’re having to wipe at your cheeks, practically crying. Once you’ve all calmed down, you blow out a breath and massage your stomach.

“Oh my God, Doll’, I can’t believe you never told us that story...”

“I’m gonna wanna hear it again every day,” Bridget says, running a hand through their hair as they grin.

Dolly beams, sipping her drink. “I’d forgotten ‘bout it, think I repressed it.”

“So Steve’s into dirty talk, too, huh?” Bridget asks, sipping their own drink.

You nod several times, because part of you had always just thought, with him being such a great commander and leader, that he would be... and you’ve already told them that he is. “Mmhm, he’s made me come by jus’ his words alone.”

“No.”

“Get th’ fuck outta here.”

You nod smugly, your tongue catching your straw and you take a long sip. Not a total lie, you’ve imagined his voice in your ear several times... with a vibrator helping you along. And, hey, you won’t feel guilty about any of this ‘cause this is boosting his image... to your friends.

Dolly’s eye are wide and she and Bridget lean in, wanting more sordid details. You grin, happy to oblige and divulge more of your fantasies.

“So, it was when he was away one time ‘nd he called me ‘nd—”

“Excuse me?”

All three of you pause and turn to look at a woman, close to your age, smiling as she pushes her brown straight hair over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“H’llo.”

“Hiya.”

“Hey,” she says, holding a phone in her hands as she looks at you. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can my friends and I get a photo with you?”

You blink, and look at her. Did... Yeah, you heard it right. Photo? With you?

You nod quickly, realising you’re just staring and silent. “Oh, yeah, sure, absolutely.”

What the fuck is happening. I hope I don’t sound as drunk as I feel. Or look it, oh my God, are my eyes open properly?

You push yourself up and, oh, fuck, yep, you’re drunk, and step around your chair as the woman beams and beckons her five friends over.

“Thank you so much!”

Bridget offers to take the photo, the woman very grateful, and she and her friends introduce themselves, a little tipsy and giddy with nerves and being with a celebrity, oh my God, I’m a celebrity, this is hilarious...

You stand in the middle, your arms around the girls either side of you, and you smile, making sure your eyes are open properly, as they pose. Bridget takes a few photos before smiling and handing the phone back to the first woman as they break away from you.

“Oh my God, thank you so much!”

“You’re so pretty!”

“We’re so jealous of you!”

You just smile and nod, trying to appear a little more sober.

“Thank you, have a nice night!” you call as they wander off, still giddy with excitement and all wanting to look at the photo.

Sitting back down, blinking, you look at Bridget and Dolly. They’re looking at you, blinking, too. It’s Bridget who finally speaks.

“... So, as you were sayin’ ‘bout gettin’ absolutely railed by America’s Finest?”

The three of you dissolve into giggles again, Dolly throwing her head back as Bridget leans over the table and your hands cover your mouth.

“Hey!”

Oh my God, I really am a celebrity.

Your wide smile lingering, you lower your hands and look up at the woman. You hear a chair scrape back on the stone floor somewhere as you pause. Hang on, you know this woman—

“You worthless bitch!”

Dolly screams as the woman throws some kind of small can at you and you’re suddenly drenched in a thick, liquid, your eyes closing just in time. Someone else screams as you hear Bridget shove their chair back and yell obscenities at the woman, lunging for her, but suddenly other voices are there, and they must be pulling the woman away because her own screams are coming from further and further away.

You’re frozen in your seat, hands half-raised. People are shouting around you but you barely listen. Dazed, your hands continue moving up, as they had been doing to protect yourself, and you wipe the liquid away from your eyes, and slowly open them.

You can feel the cold now, the heaters and fire-pits worthless, the liquid sticking to your skin and clothes. Or maybe you’re just shaking because you’re in shock.

You suddenly realise someone has been talking to you. Your head moving, you meet Sam’s gaze, suddenly feeling his hand on your back. His features are soft and his voice is gentle, but you can see the rage in his eyes.

“I got you, it’s all right. Can you get up? And we’ll get you out of here?”

You nod and lower your gaze, going to reach for your bag.

“It’s all right, I got it,” he says and your eyes move to his other hand, confirming that he does.

Getting to your feet, Sam’s arm goes around your shoulders and your feet are moving. People are still shouting, some trying to take photos, but there are people pushing them away, giving you and Sam space to head towards a door he’s leading you to.

It’s paint, you realise suddenly. Blue paint. You look back down at yourself again, watching it stain your skin and clothes.

“Where’s Bridge’ and Dolly?” you hear yourself ask.

“Another agent’s got ‘em, don’t worry, she’s gonna take ‘em home.”

Sam shoves the door open and you step into a stairwell, two men stood inside it. One of them moves to your left and you see an elevator, which the man opens by typing in a code on a keypad. Sam’s hand is still on your back, gently guiding you into it. The doors shut as the man types in another code, and Sam drops his hand from you and presses a button marked ‘B’. The elevator starts to descend and you stare at the doors.

“We’re gonna get you home, all right?” Sam says quietly, and you just nod, not caring to ask if he means home home, or the penthouse.

You hear him unzip his jacket. Yeah, it is hot in here. Your skin is warm all over and your throat feels tight, and you can’t quite take in a deep enough breath. Then you hear the sound of something ripping. Your gaze darting to Sam, he holds a section of his polo shirt in his hand and offers it to you. You stare at it, your brain putting the pieces together, and then you take it. You wipe at your eyes, mouth and face, and Sam zips his jacket back up and looks at you.

“You okay?” His voice is quiet again and you’re grateful for it because even the sound of his shirt tearing has made your heart beat faster.

“That was the woman from my work, who got in, wasn’t it?” you ask blankly, your volume matching his.

He shifts a little, scratching at his jaw as you hear him release a breath. “Yeah.”

You nod, swallowing hard and you wish the lump in your throat would go away. “Right.” He opens his mouth when you continue, finally meeting his gaze, “Why did you do that, Sam? You’ve blown your cover, surely, or they’ll know I’m being watched.”

He gives a light smile. “People will expect you to be watched, it would’ve been suspicious if no one stepped in.”

“Ah.” You start to wipe at your hands.

Sam tilts his head slightly, his smile softening. “And I wanted to get you out of there.”

You meet his gaze again, but you don’t have the energy to smile, despite the sentiment being touching, and just nod. His eyes linger on you as you look back down at your hands, concern swiftly replacing his smile. 

The elevator slows then comes to a halt, the doors sliding open a moment later, and the cold night air washes over you as you both step out into the underground parking garage, yet another one, Sam’s hand returning to your back. The place is silent, and you spot Sam’s SUV amongst a few other cars, both of you heading towards it. He gestures to someone in another car but you don’t care to look, assuming it’s another agent.

He moves a step ahead of you to open the passenger side door and you stop abruptly.

“What?” he says instantly, tensing.

“The paint. It’s gonna ruin the seat.”

He looks at you for a moment, his features relaxing into a smile. “Ah, that’s all right. That can be taken care of.”

You get in after he nods, and he places your bag on your lap. Closing the door, he jogs around to the driver’s side as you buckle your seatbelt then settle your hands over your bag, gripping it along with the piece of his shirt. Your eyes focus and stay on the dashboard as he secures his own seatbelt and puts the car into ‘drive’.

The barrier is more guarded than the other parking garages you’d been in this week but that hasn’t stopped paparazzi and occupants of the building from gathering, assuming that’s how you’d leave the area. You keep your eyes on the dashboard as lights flash and people shout.

Shouting, always shouting.

Sam doesn’t drive as fast as Nat, but he’s goes at some speed when you’re out on the main road. “Steve’s gonna meet us at the apartment,” he says after a couple of minutes, keeping his eyes on the road, “He was out with Barnes.”

“Okay.” Your voice sounds small to your own ears, distant.

Neither of you talk.

You look at your hands, the paint dry and barely having come off from when you’d rubbed at them in the elevator.

You start rubbing at them again, then use your nail, trying to scrape what you can off.

“Shit...” Sam murmurs suddenly.

Glancing up at him, you find him looking in the rear-view mirror every few moments.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s followin’ us.”

Your stomach drops, and exhaustion hits you like a fucking freight train. From his reaction, you guess it’s not a news van.

Sam presses a button on the steering wheel and the sound of dialling fills the interior.

Nat answers on the first ring.

"Where are you?”

“Nat, we’re bein’ followed.”

“Shit. All right, there’s a car on the way. Change your route.”

“Okay.” He takes the next left, and you know your heart should be pounding but you’re just so tired.

“How far away are you?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Sam replies, glancing up at the rear-view mirror. “We’re definitely bein’ followed, Nat.”

“The car will be there in three minutes. Keep taking turns, it’ll follow behind them.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, nearly home,” Sam murmurs.

“Mhm.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Nat asks, her voice a little softer.

“Mhm.”

Sam glances at you as he pulls up at a red light, his lips pressing together. “Not long now.”

“Mhm—”

The sound twists into a gasp as you’re thrown forward slightly, the seatbelt catching you. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you lift your head and look in the wing mirror as Sam spits out a curse.

A car, its bonnet dented, is reversing... then it speeds towards you again.

“Sam—”

“I see it.”

“Sam, what’s going on?” Nat demands to know as Sam pushes his foot down on the accelerator, the SUV lurching forward.

“We just got hit, they’re tryna ram us.”

“Are you both okay?”

Sam’s expertly weaving through the traffic, leaving horns blaring in your wake, but he just keeps going.

“Y/N, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” It’s an automatic response, but you think you are. Physically, at least. Whiplash will properly rear its head soon, though.

A faint memory comes to you, however, of Sam telling you all the SHIELD cars have been built to absorb the impact of things like this, it having happened a fair few times, leaving the occupants with minimal damage, if none, so maybe not.

“Are they still following?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Think we lost ‘em.” He only slows his speed a little, though.

“You’re right, the agents are following them now, just get back here as quick as you can.”

“All right.”

The call ends and Sam glances at you.

“Y/N, you gotta tell me if you’re not okay, are you hu—”

“I’m fine, Sam, thank you.” You swallow hard, the lump still in your throat.

He falls silent, leaving you be, and you’re grateful for it because you’re so fucking tired.

Several minutes later, he pulls up at the penthouse building and he makes you wait, sliding out of his seat and jogging round to open your door. People stare as he ushers you across the main foyer to the elevator that’ll take you up to your floor but you just look ahead. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say a word as the elevator ascends and you just look at the doors. When they slide open at the penthouse floor and you step out into the tiny circular foyer, you let Sam get his keycard out, opening the door.

And then the noise washes over you.

People talking, to each other, over each other, on phones, demanding, ordering, snapping. You hear the door close and feel Sam behind you as you slowly walk down the short hallway, then into the living room area.

There are agents everywhere, maybe about twenty, all stood around, talking. Loudly.

They don’t look up at you as they continue on with whatever they’re doing, typing on tablets, staring at tablets, standing over a hologram of what you realise is the floor-plan of the penthouse.

“Y/N.” Your eyes dart up to Nat as she approaches, striding across the carpet. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired.”

“Okay.” Her gaze scans you, assessing, and you’re too drained to care that she knows you’re lying. Her hand settles on your arm gently and she holds your gaze, her voice lowering. “We analysed what this is, okay, we got the can of it from the woman, and it’s just paint—”

“Who is she?”

Nat pauses at your abrupt question, and you know she’s weighing up what to tell you. Her hand doesn’t move from your arm as she speaks, “Her name’s Marise Daniels. She’s one of Steve’s stalkers, we’ve been aware of her for a while.”

Stalkers. One of.

“Oh.”

“She...” Sam starts to say, choosing his own words carefully. “... She isn’t meant to be out, especially after what happened at your work.”

“Apparently there was a system error. Someone’s seriously fucked up,” Nat continues, the information new to you both considering Sam’s hissed release of a breath.

“Is that why these people are all here.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard your own voice sound so lifeless.

Nat pauses again, weighing her words again and, God, just tell me. “Someone tried to break in. They got into the elevator and overrode it, got up here but they couldn’t get in. The tampering alerted our systems but by the time we got here they’d gone. We’re checking CCTV footage now and asking people if they saw anything.”

You look at her, her words barely feeling like they reach you. “So why are all these people in here.”

Her hand is gently rubbing your arm now, and it’s faintly starting to ground you. “They’re checking the security systems in place here, making sure they’re secure or reinforced.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll be gone in thirty minutes, I promise.”

“Okay.”

She takes in a breath and smiles lightly. “How about we—”

“Agent Romanoff?”

A muscle in her jaw ticks slightly but she turns to the agent, her eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

The agent lowers her phone from her ear. “Captain Rogers has helped to apprehend the suspect. He’s on his way over. Agents Moore and Lane are taking the suspect back to HQ.”

“All right, tell them to...”

Nat’s voice drops out of your hearing, and your gaze drifts to the stairs. Sam’s hand settles on your back, rubbing gently, and you remember that he’s there.

“I’m gonna... gonna go upstairs and wash this off,” you mumble to him, and you don’t hear if he replies as you move forward.

People don’t look at you, continuing with their business, talking, talking, talking. You reach the top of the stairs before you know it, opening your bedroom door. You close it behind you, muffling the sounds of the people downstairs.

Removing your shoes, you drop your bag to join them on the floor as you head to the bathroom. You pull your outfit off, letting it drop to the floor, too, you can deal with it later, hopefully the washing machine will get it out.

You turn the shower on and step under the water. Head down, you watch some of the blue paint start to wash off, swirling and whirling in the water and disappearing down the drain. Only a little, though.

You have to use your hands and the body-wash to get it off. Scrubbing at your skin. Scraping at it.

You’re in there for twenty minutes. Scrubbing. Scraping.

When you finally make yourself get out your skin feels raw. There’s still a faint stain in some parts, though. You grab a towel and use it to continue rubbing at your skin, blue now staining the cream softness of it. The rest of your skin is dry by the time you make yourself stop and you pull the robe on.

Then you look at yourself in the mirror.

The lump returns to your throat and tears fill your eyes. You look... drained. And you fucking feel it. You’re exhausted. So exhausted, in every single way. You’ve spent all week fighting so hard to stay up-beat, to stay positive, to make this work, to see the good sides, but the world isn’t allowing that. You’d just wanted to yell at the woman, Marise, that you are doing this to keep him safe, that he is in danger, and you are just doing this to keep your fucking best friend safe.

The fact there’s still some blue paint staining your cheeks and neck is what makes the tears finally spill down your face. Sniffing, you swallow hard and grab a hand towel, wetting it and scrubbing at your skin once more.

It’s not moving.

You inhale a quiet, shuddering breath, almost a sob, as you stare at your reflection, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.

Three gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you say automatically, your voice cracking, and you wipe at your eyes.

You look up as the door opens and see in the reflection... Steve.

He pauses, the door nearly closed behind him. You sniff again as you look at him, his eyes assessing you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” you answer. You shrug then, your features crumbling. “... It’s not coming off.”

The door closes and he’s moving towards you.

“Come here, it’s okay...”

As you turn from the mirror, you’re then enveloped in his embrace, your cheek pressed against his chest as he holds you. A jagged sob escapes you as your arms go around him, holding onto his shirt, gripping it.

“It’s okay...” he murmurs again, and you feel his voice rumbling in his chest, his chin resting on your head.

You’ve tried so hard to stave off tears all week that now that you can, now you don’t care anymore, now that you’re so tired, they’re not stopping. The front of his grey shirt must be damp, now, and your throat hurts and your chest is heaving but you just let the tears come and come, and he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t say anything, just holds you, his hands occasionally stroking your back and arms gently.

It’s not until you start to draw back that he does, guiding you to the sit on the rim of the bath.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with one hand. “Still a bit drunk, I think.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little as he crouches down before you and takes the hand towel. “You don’t need to apologise. You can cry as much as you like.”

Your own lips lift for a moment as you sniff, and then you want to cry all over again as he starts to gently dab at the stains on your face and neck. You watch him, your eyes tracing his nose and mouth, the small, concerned lines on his forehead. If he got into a fight with the suspect earlier, there’s no sign of it. His hair doesn’t even look tussled.

Your eyes continue moving and meet his. He lowers his hand and inhales a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry, about all of this, Y/N.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “Steve, it’s not your fault.”

He looks almost pained at that, shaking his own head. “I could’ve prevented you being in this situation, though, I knew the risks of—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt sharply, surprising you both, but you continue on, “I already know what you’re going to say, and I will take it all, all of this, if it means I get to be your friend. Like we’ve said, we’re a team in this. I really wouldn’t want anyone else as my fake fiancé or as my friend.”

A smile pulls at his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to take all this, though, you shouldn’t—”

“No, I shouldn’t. But I will.” Your hand has found his free one, and grips it gently.

He turns his hand over instantly, curling his fingers around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His smile softens.

“I think the world’s finally gonna see the stubborn pain in the ass I have to deal with.”

You exhale a laugh, and his smile widens at seeing yours.

“Well, it’s only fair others should have to suffer,” you say, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re right there.” He resumes dabbing at your skin as you look at him.

“How was your day?” you ask quietly after a few silent moments, knowing he’ll just ask how you are if it stretches any longer.

“It was okay.” He’s dabbing at your chin now. “Peg says hi, and that she understands what you’re going through.”

God, you just want to cry all over again.

Your chest warms as you smile. “Really? Maybe I should go on your next visit.”

“I think she’d really like that.” His thumb is still brushing over your knuckles, and you wonder if he realises he’s still doing it. “She knows this isn’t real, though, think she figured it out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less. How was Bucky?”

“Fine. He says hello, too.”

“Wow, everyone’s being so kind to me today.”

He arches an eyebrow at you as you laugh, trying to stop himself from doing the same. “I don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not that you’re already joking about this.”

“Humour’s a great coping mechanism, you know that.”

He’s still smiling, but you can see the concern returning, so you quickly continue, taking your hand from his so you can raise a finger, raising your eyebrows, “Well, Doll’ and Bridge’ told me to tell you, by the way, well done, on having me as a fiancée.”

The corners of his mouth lift higher, now reaching his eyes. "Yeah, I know how lucky I am.”

“Oh, and, you proposed to me in our park, by the way.”

He tilts his head as you smile somewhat smugly. “Did I, now?”

“Yeah, under the stars.”

His eyebrows raise as he smiles widely. “Wow, you’re also very lucky, then.”

You wave your hand slightly. “I said a lot of stuff today, I’ll have to fill you in. I made notes.”

He chuckles as he lowers the towel from your face and rises to his feet. “You can show me my homework tomorrow.”

You watch him as he moves to the sink, dropping the towel into it, then raise your hand suddenly. “Oh, there was a dress I actually really liked there, too.”

 “The one you sent me a picture of?”

You freeze, staring at him as he turns to you.

“... What?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he moves back towards you, unlocking it, then taps on a couple of things before turning it towards you.

Ohp.

And there you are.

In the vintage style dress, cascading flutter sleeves stopping just below your elbows, tight on your breasts and with a v-neckline, satin gold, your hand on your waist, beaming at your reflection in the gold mirror at The Pearl. 

Ah, now you remember sending it...

“... Yeah, that’s the one.”

“It’s really nice,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he offers you a hand to get to your feet. “You look great in it.”

Your face heats as you take his hand and get up, shrugging a shoulder and smiling. “Oh, well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Your hands drop, yours going to your side, his going into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up at him, you give a light smile, which he returns.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and you nod after a moment.

“Yeah. Just so fucking tired,” you say with a slight laugh. “Think I’m just gonna sleep now.”

He nods, his teeth grazing over his lower lip. “That sounds like a good idea. What a fuckin’ day, huh?”

You snort, your eyebrows raising. “Yeah, for both of us.”

He sighs, as if remembering that, oh, yeah, someone had tried to break in, too. “The agents have all gone, now. The place is even more secure, it’s like a fortress.”

“Well, that’s good.”

You head into the bedroom, and he follows you out, moving to the door. He opens it, turning to you, and you share another smile.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks again, and you bite at your lower lip.

Stay.

You widen your smile. “Yeah. Just very ready for sleep.”

He nods, taps his fingers against the door and smiles. “All right. Goodnight. I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Your smile lingers for a moment as the door closes, then fades as you hear him walk away.

—

Halfway down the stairs, Steve pauses, his hand on the railing.

He considers turning around.

Going back up the stairs.

Opening your door.

Taking you in his arms again.

After a minute, he carries on down.

—

In your pyjamas, phone in your hand, you climb into bed, sinking into the soft safeness of it.

You unlock it, finding several messages in the group chat from Dolly and Bridget, asking how you are, saying they’re home safe, that Sam had filled Bridget in and they’d filled Dolly in, that they both hope you’re okay.

You send a message back saying that you are okay, you’re tired, and that you’ll speak to them tomorrow, and you hope they’re okay.

There’s a message from someone else, too.

I’ve just seen what happened on the news, I really hope you’re okay x

I’d have a normal life with Aaron.

Where the fuck did that come from?

But you can’t help thinking it.

He’d slipped into your mind when you’d masturbated that morning. You hadn’t wanted to think about it. You’d just imagined him, out of curiosity at first, as he’d posted a photo on Instagram of him at the gym again, just to imagine what he’d be like, you do it with most people to pass the time... and then he’d stayed in your mind.

It had seemed... more real than when you’d imagine Steve. Probably because Steve is your best friend and you shouldn’t be thinking of him that way and you don’t want to ruin what you have, you really don’t, and Aaron... Aaron is the kind of person you could take a chance on.

You feel tears start to prick at your eyes because this is fucked, this is all so fucked, and you love your best friend and you can only think that in it’s entirety without your brain shutting down when you’re drunk or tipsy because it’s the only time your mind is free and you love him, you love him, you love him, you love him...

But there is no fucking way you will ever risk losing him as a friend.

—

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[silverinia]

I came for Baranski, I stayed for Baranski - a quick Christmas On The Square review someone* actually asked for

(* thank you, anon)

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional of any sorts when it comes to film and I'm not a journalist either. The last movie review I've written was probably for a school assignment in eighth grade. I didn't do research for this and I've watched the movie exactly one time, so this is just for fun.

It was a Sunday, Sunday the 22nd of November, nearing the end of the train wreck of a year that is 2020. I woke up on an air mattress around seven am, my head aching, my throat itching with pyrosis and light nausea, it was still dark outside behind the closed blinds in front of the windows, when I slowly realised where I was, one of my best girlfriends sleeping next to me in her bed. I had crashed at her place after a warm, fuzzy evening of mulled wine, tacky Christmas movies I would never watch alone (Christmas Chronicles and Holiday Calendar, which I quite honestly didn't enjoy at all, but the company made it fun anyway), doing our nails, wearing the fun kind of face masks for a change and smoking too many cigarettes, as the soft pain in my head informed me right now. She woke up an hour later and the morning went by with coffee and reheated pizza for breakfast, when we decided to watch another movie and I realised that it was THE Sunday I'd been waiting for through Zoom interviews and Dolly Parton twitter memes and the infamous wig gate that will be briefly discussed in the following, and so we clicked on the small icon in the Netflix menu that said "Christmas On The Square".

And oh boy, was it a ride.

To start off, I should mention that I have a hard time watching most modern day American Christmas movies, as I noticed quite vividly again when I watched the two aforementioned Netflix productions last night. The character development is always foreseeable to say the least, the plot lines are plain clichés hunting each other like they're the kids in The Hunger Games, and the writing is generally so bad that you can join the actors in reciting the entire scripts on your first watch. I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas once a year while I'm gift wrapping and pause every fifteen minutes to shamelessly stare at forties Christine Baranski (I think we should all turn away from the birth of Jesus and instead count our years based on Christine Baranski's date of birth) in flamboyant nightgowns and short Christmas themed dresses, looking so fabulous that every interpreter of Santa Baby ever could only dream of it, I watch Love Actually at least five times a year to lust over Hugh Grant, cry with Emma Thompson and miss Alan Rickman, I enjoy Bridget Jones, which I would definitely consider a Christmas movie, and that's it. That's my yearly Christmas time entertainment routine and I can barely tolerate anything beyond, because I'm still traumatised from the time when I was around five years old and on a holiday family visit where had to sit through National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the dumbest movie I have ever seen (my apologies if you like it but also, who hurt you?), with my cousins. I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And it scarred me for life.

But this was a Christine Baranski movie, I knew she was going to play the lead and so I was pretty much as excited about this as I could. And the fact that Dolly Parton wrote the whole thing didn't hurt either. As I said earlier to my friend I was watching it with, I have the pop cultural taste of a fifty year old gay man, a quality I am most proud of, and this simply ticked off all my boxes.

I expected something similar to a Mamma Mia experience that wouldn't cause me to crave packing my bags, give Covid the finger and run off to Greece. Light-hearted entertainment, easy to stomach, uplifting music and so little plot that the simplicity feels like a creative choice. That's what my pained, hungover brain knew it could cope with and that's not what I got.

The movie started and I was immediately in the zone. I saw Christine Baranski's name in the front credits (an experience that never fails to make me scream "Yass Queen" at the screen, regardless of where I am and who I'm with, as if I'm the sobering result that pops out of the package when you order Jonathan Van Ness on Wish), the setting was wonderfully corny (I grew up watching Gilmore Girls once a week, so give me warm fairy lights and a gazebo and I'm perfectly happy) and as my friend wondered whether Dolly Parton, in her exaggerated homeless attire that didn't make her look shabby at all, was green-screened into the setting because she stood out so much (which she was because the background dancers were dancing in slow motion, but to be fair, we were probably still a little too drunk to notice that from the start) and I told her I thought that it was just the natural glow someone who's Dolly Parton simply carries with them everywhere they go, I was happy. This was the movie I was prepared for. A movie in which the most problematic thing would be stereotypical characters and the wig they hid Christine's real, flawlessly handmade by God herself hair under.

And then, around five minutes in, Christine Baranski's childhood love interest was revealed as she pressed her perfect pointy nose against the window of his shop and sang about her unrequited love.

And suddenly, things started taking turns at a pace I was still way too sleep-deprived for.

Suddenly, in the middle of my general amazement at seeing Christine Baranski do literally anything and laughing loud at her impeccable comedic delivery, there were unresolved daddy issues, hanging prominently at the wall in her marvellously designed house (she literally says "Daddy" at one point and I couldn't help but think that only someone with her vocal skills could keep from making it sound cringe-worthily kinky). One moment, I was clutching my chest above my heart while she was bonding with little bartender Violet and munching on pretzels while downing some whiskey in that elegant way only Christine Baranski can bond with ten year olds who had it rough, eat pretzels and down whiskey, and the next she felt responsible for said girl's mother's death (which she kinda was too, but I'm not the boss of her). I was still busy making fun of how the very annoyingly, but when you're snacking on pizza with extra cheese at nine in the morning also highly funny, slow talking pastor's name was Christian, and suddenly there was a cancer scare.

It was a lot, a hasty sprint from major issue to major issue with a hint of comedic relief every now and then, and it didn't get any less until the very, rather poorly resolved, end.

The entire, constant up and down was followed by the movie's peak of suspense, the near death of precious Violet, something I couldn't even get too invested in because I was still so busy worrying about Christine's MRT results (I was truly fucking worried), not to mention that I hadn't even started to really process the sudden revelation of the love child and how it had affected her character's actions until this point. Was her constant tendency of pushing people away, as we've seen most clearly with her angel in training assistant who's name I cannot recall right now, the result of her broken trust in her father who practically ripped her son away from her after she had just given birth to him? Was it a result of her never getting the closure she needed with plaid flannel wearing Carl she was clearly still in love with? Maybe both? And what of the many issues was it that made her so incredibly shaken up when Violet blamed herself for her mother's death? Was it 'just' due to the fact that the closed pharmacy was on her, or was there more to it? Was it because she had grown up without a mother herself? Or did I miss a major piece of information because I was momentarily distracted, dumbfoundedly staring at Christine's very blue eyes? No time to ponder on that, little Silverinia, because here comes unconscious Violet in an ambulance, WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

I'm not going to go in depth about what plot lines I thought were especially carelessly handled and why, real standouts were the sudden forgiveness towards her father who had still acted like a shitty asshole even though he might have had his reasons, because giving the baby up for adoption just wasn't his choice to make, and the fact that I kind of didn't buy how quickly Regina managed to forgive herself, especially for Violet's mother's passing, considering how deeply her tall, slim, dare I say angelic and entrancing figure was buried beneath the weight of all her issues. It felt rushed and incomplete, but that's as detailed as it gets because my major point is something else.

I think this movie made the great mistake of trying to be more than your average, flat, happy ending Christmas movie. I think no one involved thought it was possible to make it a big hit if the only real plot would've been great Dolly Parton music, fun ensemble dance choreographies, Christine Baranski's outstanding acting skills, fun settings and costumes and a redemption arch with as little plot as it could possibly take to make Christine likable to those who aren't already lost forever in the rabbit hole of being obsessed with her (poor fuckers, can't relate). They didn't notice that with the legends that were involved, they could've easily gone the Mamma Mia way. And I think that's why they tried to include heavier plot lines than most creators would've chosen, experiencing loss at an early age, struggling to find closure, dealing with sickness, teenage pregnancy, parents forcing their choices on their children when they affect their childrens' lives first, adoption, and the fear of losing your kid.

It was a lot and I don't want to say that it didn't work because my friend was crying, like, pretty hard and I questioned my entire existence all through the movie in not the worst way, and I did enjoy it a lot while watching. The "grief is love with nowhere to go" line was a real standout, for example, where the attempt of complexity DID work. It positively gave me fleabag season two, "I don't know what to do with it now, with all the love I have for her." - "I'll take it. It sounds lovely. You have to give it to me." feels, and that's about the biggest praise I can come up with. BUT (and this is written in capital letters because it's the big but) I'm also totally convinced that I wouldn't have enjoyed it if they hadn't cast Christine Baranski for the lead role. In my humble opinion, the hasty, not really at all resolved plot of this movie only worked because Christine Baranski is just a fantastic actress. She quirks a mocking eyebrow and you laugh. She parts her perfectly painted red lips and you immediately hang on them because you don't want to miss a single breath she, a literal goddess, graces us mere peasants of people with. She smiles and you're happy. She laughs and even while she's still laughing, you can't wait to hear her do it again. Her eyes fill with tears and you feel goosebumps on your arms, her voice slightly trembles, a breath hitches in her throat and you feel your heart shattering to pieces. As Chuck Lorre once said, this woman could read you the phone book and you would end up laughing tears because she just gets the job done. She knows what she's doing, she's an absolute pro in her game, and it doesn't matter, not even a little bit, what she's working with, because the work she eventually delivers with it is always at a minimum of 200%. I forced my friend to watch this movie with me because I adore this woman, and I felt for this movie because I felt for her. It wasn't the plot that sadly brutally overestimated itself, it wasn't the songs that I obviously enjoyed, nor the comedic elements that truly made me laugh a lot, it was all her. I came for Baranski, and I stayed for Baranski. This woman can do anything. She can even look graceful in a terrible wig job.

(side note / unpopular opinion: I actually didn't think the wig was all too bad. It wasn't good, actually far from good, but for me, nothing can match the awful wig game of Mamma Mia 2. I loathed that wig, I absolutely cannot stand it. So this didn't feel all that terrible. It definitely wasn't the most problematic part about the movie.)

I enjoyed watching this. It was a nice distraction from all the bullshit in the world. Watching it today was the first thing this year that actually brought me something close to excitement about the holiday season, even though everything will be very different and probably not quite as jolly this year. But it just gave me good vibes and as someone who did not watch this as a film reviewer, that's the biggest part of what leads me to enjoy a movie.

Will I watch this again? For sure. Will I enjoy it when I'm not hungover, having freshly done nails and munching delicious pizza for breakfast? Probably not as much, but it'll still have Christine Baranski in it. Would I recommend watching this? If you share my obsession with Queen B, one hundo. If you don't, probably not.

[welshdragonrawr]

For the Valentine's Day asks: 1-5, 7-11, 13-17, 19, 20, 22-27, 29-33, 35, 39, 41-43, 44 (fuck, marry, kill: Amanda, Audrey, Ally), 47-49 pleeeeeeease?? I know I said I wouldn't request a million but I'm a curious bean hehe ;)

Seeing as it is actually Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d finally answer these. Under the cut, because it’s a loooooong post and I didn’t want to overtake peeps’ dash. Well here goes;

(Also, the post format messed up, but I couldn’t be bothered to fix them because this already took ages so they’re just in the order asked and I bolded answers so they stand out)

do you have a crush on anyone? - I do indeed, and I am fairly certain they are well aware of it ;)

what’s your favorite candy? - It changes all the time because I have such a sweet tooth but right now chocolate-wise it’s probably cadbury or kinder chocolate, and actual candy probably haribo (tangfastics to be precise)

favorite love song? - There are too many to choose from or list here but right now it’s probably still ‘Wasteland Baby’ by Hozier, You Are In Love by Taylor Swift, or for entirely cheesy reasons a certain someone might know Hero by Enrique Iglesias 

what was your first kiss like? - Terrible because I didn’t know what I was doing and was with entirely the wrong person at the wrong time and I didn’t know it then

what was your last kiss like? - If it’s the one I’m allowed to think of in this context, pretty damn good ;)

do you prefer poems or love letters? - Both - I can’t decide, because I love anything remotely like that, when someone goes to the length of composing something like either of those because they were thinking of me? Incredible! 

favorite fanfic trope? - Slow-Burn if that counts, with a side order of fake dating or mutual pining, potentially both at once heheh 

have you ever been in love? Mayyyybeeee, maybe I aaaaam, I’ll just have to let you ponder that one ;)

favorite milkshake flavor? - Chocolate brownie, even if I can’t have too much because then it gets sickly but in small quantities? Yesssss! Or cookies&cream in any variation

dinner dates or brunch dates? - This one was tough because I don’t really have any experience with either, but I think Brunch dates, and not just because I would have much much less anxiety about awkward food ordering and stuff, plus I feel like Brunch dates have much less formal expectation about them, and you have the rest of the day after to do more things if you want to!

favorite perfume/cologne?  - Probably the Ghost one that has a bottle shaped like the moon, or Good Girl by Caroline Herrera (the bottle looks like a high heel?)

favorite candle scent? - There’s a seasonal Yankee Candle one they do around Christmas time that I cannot remember the name of for the life of me right now, but it’s just the right kind of sweetness in the air when you have it burning for a lil while? If I ever remember what it is I’ll come back and edit this post haha

what’s your ideal first date? - I’m not really sure, because all types of dates make me nervous especially first dates haha. I’d like to leave it up to the other person to decide what we do, as long as I could treat them in some way with whatever it is/wherever we go? 

favorite love story? - Are we talking classics or fandom or...? What currently springs off the top of my head though is Hades & Persephone - I’m convinced he didn’t ‘steal her’ to be a dick, he stole her away to somewhere cool and calm away from the pressures and terrors of life on the surface so she could catch her breath for a couple months, and can we blame her? And he makes her his Queen, like - if he was gonna be mean, he could have made her his slave, or his concubine or his pet or something, but instead he gave her his whole world to rule with him. Sounds like a better guy than that bastard ol’ Zeus, no? (Historians/Classics students please don’t fight me) 

what’s the most attractive thing a person could wear? - Happiness. Doesn’t matter to me whether you’re wearing a trash bag, or a Chanel dress or your faded ol’ pjs or not a single thread. So long as you’re happy and you’ve got that glow about you and that bright shine in your eyes? Yeah..

snow, rain, or sun? -  I love all three for different reasons (I’m indecisive, don’t judge me, or do) give me a snow day with my dog or my lover with hot chocolate and snowmen and flurries out the window, or an afternoon reading inside while it rains with blankets and a cup of tea, or a sunny afternoon walk with just the right amount of cool breeze to keep it balmy but bright? Yes please. But again, if I had to choose, probably rain... Because I live in England for one thing, but there’s something so comforting about the rain.

sweetest romantic memory? - My partner at the time took me to a second-hand bookshop and let me browse the stacked shelves as long as I liked, and I found a hardback copy of a book by a fave author but it was too expensive so just admired it and put it back, then when my birthday rolled around 2 weeks later, they turned up with that same book they had gone back for without telling me as a surprise gift

fictional crushes? - Cordelia Goode, Theo Crain, Mildred Ratched, I could keep listing but that means we’d be here forever and if you’ve been following me long enough you probably already know anyway...

what’s your dream wedding like? - This would need a whole post on its own to answer if I could actually be decisive and sit down with some thought over it. But alas... I don’t really know, I’d like things to be somewhat fancy and romantic, but I’d also like for it not to feel all stuffy and super serious like, that everyone can have fun and be a little goofy and a little merry and not have to worry about oh am I doing this certain thing right or feeling all self-conscious while dancing. So I’m not really sure how to narrow it down into specific details or events...? Except, there’s a really dumb nerdy part of me that wants to be able to do the cake slicing with a sword rather than a knife. Because reasons. 

what makes you blush? - Too much. Usually compliments. 

do you believe in love at first sight? - I believe in *attraction* at first sight, and *affection* you find or work for later. 

do you believe in soulmates? - Yeah, but I also believe a soulmate doesn’t have to be someone you’re in love with or a romantic partner, a soulmate can just as easily be a friend you keep on keeping on through this silly little game of life with, y’know? You’ve both been dealt shitty hands, but you’d be willing to share each others cards to get through, and some other cheesy af analogies...

denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets? - Leather jackets, tho technically I have worn and do wear all three so - I hoard jackets like some people hoard shoes and handbags, it’s a problem

are you single? - if you know you know, and that’s the that on that ;)

do you prefer to charm, or be charmed? - Both? I love to see the look on a partners face when they’re charmed, all blushing and cute and sparkly eyes and big smiles - I think I like to be charmed too but I would also get suuuuper awkward and not sure what to do with it or in response to it because I’m not used to being on the receiving end of attention like that?

guitar or piano? - I love both, and girls who can play either/both are heavensent sirens who can have me under their spell for hours (I think it’s the hand thing again, see?) but if I had to choose it would have to be Piano.

favorite romcom (or any romantic movie)? - Um... Does Love & Other Drugs count? Or Imagine Me And You - I’m not big on too many ‘traditional’ rom-coms because they make me cringe way too often, and often not in a good way, but there’s sometimes the odd one I enjoy! (Though I must admit, being British, Bridget Jones and Love Actually are like, historical treasures so...)

do you fall in love easily? - Nope. I mean, do I love people easily? Yeah I try to give the best of myself to the people I cherish as much as possible. But do I *fall in love* easily? Nah, takes a while before this oblivious lil heart realises it.

would you prefer to propose or be proposed to? what’s your dream proposal? - Oh gosh, honestly, I don’t know... I’m one of those people that *love* to do anything and everything to bring a smile to my partner’s face and make them happy and there’s just something so magical about seeing their face light up and their eyes sparkle, y’know? So I feel like I would want to do that by giving them the perfect proposal for them (but on the flipside this means I would also be incredibly *terrified* of ever doing it remotely wrong/not exactly how they wanted it, or getting the wrong kind of ring or all of that plethora of details and minutiae that could be messed up ahha). But also, I kinda wouldn’t mind being proposed to either? Like I’m so used to taking care of other people, it might be nice, at the risk of sounding like a bad pokemon promo. to have that validation of someone else saying ‘I choose you’ y’know? As for dream proposal, much like dream wedding, I’m not entirely sure? As long as it’s memorable and with the one I love? (Which is such a cop-out answer) I honestly don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it, probably because I never really thought it was happen so I figured why think about something that’s never gonna happen ahhah. Somewhere picturesque I guess? So I could really capture the picture in my mind for the rest of my lifen, not like for a social media photo post or any of that shit but just for myself to look back on, if any of that essay ramble makes any sense. 

kittens or puppies? - How DARE- Nope. It’s both. I’m sorry but it’s both. They are both adorable AF and I will love and pet and cherish them all. 

favorite soda? - Cola I guess? And don’t try to rope me into the Pepsi V Coke thing, because honestly I like both for different reasons and choosing one over the other seems silly when either of them tastes good if you’ve got enough whiskey or rum in them ;) 

do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically over the sofa? - I rather like doing both tbf, but if I’m gonna be honest, give me ‘cosied up under a blanket, with a mug of hot tea/coffee gazing wistfully out the window at whatever weather is going on outside, any day.

favorite ABBA song? - How dare you - umm... Slipping Through My Fingers or The Winner Takes It All because I am at heart a soppy dramatic fool.

fuck/marry/kill? (anons name 3 people of your choice) - You meanie, how dare you make me decide such a thing. Buuuut Fuck Ally (cuz you just *know* that canon wlw got some mooooves), Marry Amanda (because she seems like someone I could get along with in all the day to day stuff y’know? Like, I could settle down with her, you feel me?) and don’t hate me but you asked the question but Kill Audrey (*runs and hides*)

do you think about love a lot? - Yeah, I think so, in all its different incarnations. As a writer I’m kinda obligated to? But I think I think about it even when I’m not super aware of it or the reasons for or why. 

a walk in the park or a walk on the beach? - It’s a tough once because I love it when the light filters *just so* through trees and looks so pretty, but the beach has the lapping waves and soft sand to walk on and pretty colours at sunsets and sharing ice creams/chips/doughnuts/pretzels and- Yeah so beach probably.

hand kisses or nose kisses? - Hand kisses, fo’sho, because haaaands

[parf-fan]

In-house shows have been posted!

As always, the following info is from the Faire’s website.

Queen's Court

Join the Mount Hope Welcoming Committee as they greet Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, at the Globe Stage! See the Queen, enjoy a sampling of the many entertainments available during the day, and learn what lies in store for all visitors to Mount Hope!

[Ah, so they’ve moved it back to the Globe for this year.  Here’s hoping everyone interested in seeing this show is aware of the stage change and doesn’t go sit at Endgame for fifteen minutes wondering where tf the preshow is until they finally look more closely at their daily writ and then say a few choice words along with their best friend as the two of us raced off to the new stage.]

Variety Royale

How can one even begin to pick a favorite act here at Mount Hope? Well Her Majesty aims to do just that. Watch as the festival's performers battle for the title of The Queen's Favorite, and perhaps even more importantly, enough food to feed themselves and their family for a whole week!

[Who needs Chess when you can have a battle of the Humanities department!]

Ultimate Joust

Join Her Majesty and the people of Mount Hope as they preside over the final joust of the day! Strength will be tested, Honor will be challenged, and the very cause of Chivalry hangs in the balance. An explosive fireworks celebration awaits the victorious Knight and their supporters afterward!

[I’d be suspicious of this promise of a “fireworks celebration”, except that I know there are simply logistically not the numbers necessary to stage an attempted insurrection. It may be actual fireworks.]

Disasterpiece Theater 

Years ago, Mount Hope gained a reputation as a testing ground for new and unconventional community theatre. Has it lived up to Sir Walter's lofty goals? Can anything get it back on track? Was it ever on track to begin with? What is a track? Theatre will happen. It might be a Masterpiece, it might be a disaster, but it will always be a Disasterpiece.

[One, thank God. I mean, they’d’ve been daft to cut it, but all the same. Two, Sir Walter was namedropped as a historical figure and that makes me happy. Three,“What is a track?”  The cast this year is not divided by track as they’ve been before! There may not be tracks at all!  This description is fricking clever].

Finale Pub Sing 

End the festival day in joyously boisterous song lead by Demetrius and Friends! Join Her Majesty, Her Court, and the shire folk of Mount Hope as they bid you farewell with songs we all know and love.

[But like,,, its not at a pub, right?  That would be logistically too crowded to be safe rn.]

Music with Her Majesty

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth enjoys singing her favorite musical selections with a few new Shire friends. Don't miss this royal performance!  [It’s back babyyy!]

Tea Time

Come join the two most in-the-know Courtiers in her Majesty's retinue as they discuss the hottest topics of the day. Gossip is illegal, so they definitely will not be gossiping; but rest assured, Tea shall be served, and if some is spilled, so be it!

[Listen. You can’t just go posting things like that.]

Mags' To Rich's*

She's rich. She's poor. But they both can agree on one thing: dating is hard. Join Mags Cockburn and Lady Rich as they sing about men, love, and …other things. *Contains material not suitable for children.

[Ooooh, Jules is Mags again, but as a Bacch! Coolio. My guess is that Lady Rich will be portrayed by Leigh Ann Hamelin, because music. Might not be, though. Musical ability is not limited to those historically on the music track.] [Also can we talk about this show’s title, ‘cause it’s clever.]

Guts & Glory: A Scottish Cooking Demo

Join Scottish Ambassador, Argyle Douglas, as he weaves comedy and storytelling into a cooking demonstration of Scotland's most famous dish, Haggis. This exhibition features an authentic Scottish "plushie" sheep happily providing authentic "plushie" organs thus enabling everyone to savour the experience without any worries about "nasty bits".  This show is fun for the whole Family (bring your children, your grandmother, your dog).

[why...why is “plushie” in quotation marks. what are they implying.]

A Whole Experience* 

Join Abe Froman, The Sausage King, and Argyle Douglas, Scottish Ambassador, as they wax poetic about the merry mix-ups in which mature couples find themselves. The Battle for Understanding, Is Compromise Truly Worthwhile in the Long-run?, When Honesty is not the Best Policy, are just the tip of the ice-burg of topics discussed. Ultimately, this show is a celebration of being human and the foibles that come with that condition. Come prepared to laugh and share in "A Whole Experience"!  *Contains material not suitable for children.

[Strictly speaking, this show sounds less like a celebration of being human and more like a celebration of being an alloromantic allosexual human in an érosish relationship, but that could be false advertising.]

And finally, neither listed last nor remotely least....

Whose Jest Is It Anyway?

Just because the Queen is on the Shire doesn't mean the people of Mount Hope need to take themselves seriously all day! Come join the shire folk as they engage in some games of Wit, Hilarity, and Downright Silliness; all based on suggestions from the audience, so every show is different! Here are some testimonials from real audience members: • "I laughed until I stopped!" - Bern D'bread, Baker • "Seriously, whose jest is it? They never answer that blasted question!" - Yuri Gnollcakes, Privy Attendant • "I took an afternoon off inventing to watch 'Whose Jest…?' My brain is now so dead I'll never invent again!" - Leonardo Da Vinci, Early Renaissance Man • "Bridget!" - Bridget Moorhouse, Lat Master of Revels

[FUCK YEAH IT’S BAAAAACK!!!!!  I’ve been waiting years for this!  Granted, that waiting has been much more congenial since I discovered Friday Knight Improv and since they added improv track shows to the Faire day, but I have nevertheless been waiting for this for years!]

[But more important than that, I want to discuss the final testimonial there.  You’ll notice that there appears to be a typo in attributing the quote, beyond just missing the middle ‘e’ from Moorehouse.  There’s a missing letter from the modifier of the title.  It says “Lat”.  Now, while it turns out that “lat” is, in fact, a word, I very much doubt that they are attempting to define Bridget as a former silver coin of Latvia equal to 100 santimi.  No, there are two words that it could be.  One, it could be missing an ‘e’, making the word “late”.  On the outside, that seems reasonable enough; Bridget was in her prime in 1520 and this season takes place sometime after 1558.  But there is yet another option.  The missing letter could be an ‘s’, making the intended word “last”.  The last Master of Revels.  As in: Mount Hope has not had a Master of Revels since Bridget?  Or as in: there is no Master of Revels after Bridget because Bridget is still the Master of Revels and will always be the Master of Revels even unto the ending of the world, for Bridget is forever, possibly Eldritch, a force of pure chaos, unending and unchanging, Eternal.

This is one typo I hope they never fix.]

[raisinghellonstarbug]

Comfort Films Challenge

Thank you to the wonderful @omnishambolichologram for tagging me as always in these fun activites :3 ^^ Also - sorry it’s taken me weeks to FINALLY post this!

Film are definitely my number one enjoyment in life along with watching television series (aside from the obvious of spending time with family and friends) and there are quite a few comfort films for me, so it’s going to be difficult to narrow down to only seven! I might have to be cheeky and add in a couple of special mentions hehe

And FYI some of these films might not be necessarily comforting, but they are in that they’re easy to watch so many times because I love them that much. This list probably won’t have all of my absolute favourites, but we shall see what my brain comes up with this time because it sometimes changes.

(I won’t be able to rate one more than the other as they’ll all be different kinds of films so I wouldn’t be able to necessarily say one is better than the other)

I’ve chosen these films based on not only how rewatchable they are, but also on their sheer brilliance as a whole in terms of cinematography, dialogue, cleverness and the acting... (and probably on how long I’ve known them and grown to love them everytime I watch them)

Note: I don’t own some of the gifs included in this post. Credit would go to them if I knew who they were but I’m making sure that I don’t take credit for the ones which aren’t mine.

Good Will Hunting (1997)

This film is quirky, intelligent, funny and teaches you a lot about the choices you make in life. I think what I love about this film is how simple the ending is. “I gotta see about a girl...” - sums up how love can end up being the most important thing to grab hold of when you realise you have it and never had it before. I personally believe that this is probably Matt Damon’s best performance out of all his acting roles even to this day. Ben Affleck and Robin Williams were pretty damn great in it too.

Midnight Run (1988)

(This gif is mine).

This film has it all. A damn well cleverly written script with uncanny and hilarious dialogue, brilliant dynamic between the two main characters, fabulous music score, wonderful sets of shots (the cinematography of the beginning scene is great) and basically a simple story that is not only entertaining and easy to follow, but is acted out fabulously by everyone. The whole wild goose chase for these two men played by Robert De Niro and Charles Grodin across the country is just ridiculous, but ridiculously funny. I have to say that it’s definitely one of my top favourites of all time. If you want a laugh, I would recommend this one!

Special mention (another Martin Brest film): Beverly Hills Cop is on point also.

The Breakfast Club (1985)

It was tough for me to just decide on one John Hughes film as he’s one of my favourite directors of all time, but I chose Breakfast Club because it’s the ultimate classic coming-of-age story, and it’s all set in just one location. It’s clever in that there doesn’t have to be lots of action to make it good, all it does is introduce a bunch of teenage stereotypes and take away the shields that they have put on and learn to no longer be prejudice of one another. Eighties is also my favourite era of films and this is just a perfect mixture of comedy and drama. The acting is great and I give applause to especially Judd Nelson and Anthony Michael-Hall for their delivery and their facial expressions.

Special mentions of other John Hughes films he has written/directed that I ADORE: Pretty in Pink (Andrew McCarthy and James Spader yum), Sixteen Candles (hilarious), Uncle Buck (the best family film ever), Planes, Trains and Automobiles and Some Kind of Wonderful <3

Heathers (1988)

Christian Slater and Winona Ryder are the best duo in this film and it is another eighties classic. I related to both these characters and I can never get enough of this film. I have probably seen it twenty times or more and still not fed up with watching it. The dark comedy and the gritty and foul dialogue are iconic in this flick, and I take my hat off to the brilliant Heathers (Kim Walker - may she RIP, Shannen Doherty, Lisanne Falk) for playing such clever and awful characters. I was obsessed at one point with Slater because of his role as J.D and honestly his death at the end of the film is a powerful as fuck ending. The cinematography of the ending makes the film for sure, the angle, the chosen shots I just Ugh. Fabulous.

The Help (2011)

This film. I don’t know it’s just brilliantly done and the acting is perfection. Emma Stone, Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer, Jessica Chastain and Dallas Bryce-Howard are fantastic in their roles and this film explores such a crucial time period that I think is illustrated well. These women while fictional, feel so real and the struggle of black maids (black people in general really but this is specific to the women) is real. I cannot help but cry everytime at the ending, and the way that Aibilene stands up for herself, I never get tired of. It is easy to watch as it’s not painful like 12 Years A Slave, but it still epitomises the segregation that was so prominent in the sixties in southern US very well. I find comfort in how delightful the characters are and still manages to be funny despite the story being focused on such a sensitive subject.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

Shawshank, well we all know this film. It has been parodied and quoted so many bloody times, but yet I am cliche in love with it and I cannot fault a single thing about it. Tim Robbins is an underrated as fuck actor and he should be appreciated so much more for his stellar performance as Andy Dufrense. He is the epitome of the straight and narrow man who, really, is not a bad guy at all. In fact, he’s always tried to be the opposite. You symphathise with him throughout and you really feel his struggle, but also his perfect ability to be so human. He makes Red realise he is not as bad as he made himself believe and of course we know how good Morgan Freeman is. Again, this film like Heathers I could watch a million times and never get bored with it. Whether it’s on TV or I find it available online, I always will make time to watch it.

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

I have only recently come across this film about 8 months ago and it’s the kind of film which I can’t help but wonder where it’s been my whole life. I have already watched it probably like 10 times since I found it and I am so happy I did. However, it has led me to form an unhealthy obsession with Timothee Chalamet where he has come up in conversation in real life and I figured the only things I was still an avid fan of was of Supernatural and Red Dwarf, but no this film is just pure delightful dynamite. The cinematography is so elegant and perfect (especially during the dream like sequence when Elio is alone or in the gif above when Elio is watching Oliver). The screenplay brilliantly illustrates how wonderfully amazing but also torturous love can be, and well it is set in the eighties. What more can you love? Timmy and Armie have such good chemistry it’s unreal, and they make their characters so believable. Another film I cannot fault and could watch anytime, even though the ending is heartbreaking af.

Bonus: Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)

Notting Hill (1999)

About TIme (2013)

There are plenty of other comfort films I adore but it probably depends on my mood. I’m definitely a sucker for romantic comedies and these three are on here as bonuses because they’ve also been very comforting to me over the years. What can I say? Richard Curtis writes some brilliant screenplays and directs some of them too.

[bridget-multifandom-writer]

❝being a legacy❞ Marcus Lopez

Synopsis: Being a legacy and dating Marcus Lopez

How you met;

You had been going to Kings Dominion for a few months before Marcus came along.

You met him on his first day. 

You were walking down the hall when you saw Chico with his hand around Maria throat. 

You quickly walked over and confronted him, Maria begging you not to with her eyes, “Chico,” you said coldly.

His gaze shifted to you, then Marcus, then Maria. Marcus gave him a shove and Chico came at him.

Knife out you fought to stop him but focused on Maria instead. Then when he walked away you turned your gaze to Marcus.

You warned him not to mess with Chico.

He brought up you coming up to him, “I know a lot more than you,” you rolled your eyes and walked away

He called out “Wanna share some that knowledge?” and you turned to see him smile. He didn’t look like a killer - handsome, warm brown eyes, nice smile - “No.”

The next time you saw him was at the rooftop. You came to steal some weed off of Lex

You were smoking when Marcus climbed up. He seemed to know Billy, you just kept passing the blunt along with Petra and Lex.

He noticed you “I never got your name?”

You cocked an eyebrow up, most people knew you, Billy laughed and explained who you were.

“Y/N’s the daughter of the mob-boss in California. She’s gonna take over after her dad retired or whatever...”

Getting a little flirty;

After that Marcus and you started to talk more often. Sharing some stories over a blunt while being interrupted by Lex, Billy, or whoever.

He’d shamelessly flirt with you. It started with teasing jokes.

“It’s so obvious...”

“What?”

“You wanna get married, have babies, and hump on the washing machine.”

Then he started to really like you. Whenever he saw you in your out-of-school clothes, he’d lose all breath.

“Woah... you look.... beautiful.”

((giggle)) ‘You should shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies if you don’t.”

You pretended you didn’t like the curly haired boy. 

You tried to resist your feelings for him. Your father's words echoing in your head;

“Keep your head down. Focus on your work - no drugs, no sex, and no falling in love... it fucks everything up.”

He isn’t the most gentle-man but you knew he cared. So you tried to follow suit until one night it all came crashing.

Getting together;

He was drunk, you were high. He came up behind you while you were dancing and a storm started.

Your lips crashed against his. His tongue tangled with your while you ran your fingers through those curly dark locks, his hands grabbing your ass.

Soon enough, you were in his bed - or Shaban’s - you still haven’t figured that one out. Underneath him moaning desperately for him.

The next day started and he revealed he was a virgin, you were one too, and he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

You said yes.

As a couple;

Marcus got to see a different side to you. A softer, more loving, and playful side.

He like that a lot.

You’d see him and your face would light up. Just like his.

You’d greet him with a hug and a kiss

You both love affection.

Sometimes Marcus just comes over to your room and nuzzles his face into your neck. If your working you’ll push him off of you gently and he’ll pout. If you're not working you’ll wrap an arm around him.

You’ll do the same. Walking into his room and snuggling up to him.

He just smiles. If he’s playing video games he’ll let out a fake sigh “You’re so clingy...” he’ll jokingly complain.

On the weekends or end of the days you two just laze around.

You’ll lay in each other's arms sharing kisses periodically.

If you aren’t in a lazy mood you might get a little naughty.

Shabnam usually walks in and kills the mood though

“Hey, Marcus do you --”

((falls off bed) “Shabnam I’ve told you to knock!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry... I’m --”

“Hey what are you staring at? Hey! Get your eyes off my girl!”

Meeting your family;

Your mom died when you were young due to your fathers work. Hints why he says “Love fucks everything up”

That same statement made both you and Marcus worried.

Marcus got even more worried when you explained how big your family is

Mob families are huge, we see everyone as a loved one until they backstab us, there were a lot

So you introduced him as a friend who didn’t have anywhere to go.

Your dad suspected it was more but bought it anyway.

No one in your family really minded Marcus.

They liked to fuck around with him but Marcus could take it and give it back.

((that's your man))

Everyone in your family caught on pretty quickly that you two were more than just friends

Not all of them were happy about, especially the men, you were the next leader and you became the joy of your big family.

Some of them entertained your twos little play

The men began to be less funny with Marcus and more subtle threats

Your eldest brother didn’t mind much. He never saw you as a kid, so when he walked in on you on top of Marcus with his shirt off, he just laughed and said: “You know everyone knows your a thing, right?”

After that, you came clean because it was obvious he was right.

The men in your family slowly got used to Marcus. Your dad still wasn’t too happy with the Nicaraguan man.

That was until someone decided breaking into the house full of mobsters would be a wonderful idea

Clearly, they didn’t know who they were fucking with.

They chose to break through your window and Marcus almost immediately took him down.

He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

Your dad saw that and decided Marcus wasn’t that bad.

So with a subtle nod, Marcus knew he was okay.

This was really fun to write! I hope you enjoyed. If you want to see more check out my masterlist. All the other stuff is below. 

Taglist is open, request are open, ships are open (I write for multiple fandoms so please list a specific one if you want it), and feel free to message me.

- Bridget

Masterlist

Marcus Lopez Taglist: 

Deadly Class Taglist:

Overall Taglist:

[gdialex]

Hello, Mr. LOGAN WAGNER. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

logan, quite frankly, was already bored of this conversation. he had plans with a girl (( and she was a french exchange student, so it’d a real fucking tragedy if he couldn’t make it )), and he was anxiously glancing at his watch every two minutes. she didn’t seem like the type of girl to reschedule.   

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name.

“logan wagner.” he glanced down at his watch and then looked back up at the detective, grinning, “but my friends call me the notorious a.s.s.” booth didn’t look amused, but logan just snorted. that made two of them, buddy.  

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age.

“october 8th. twenty-one.” he leaned back in the chair and placed his hands behind his head, “but what you should really write down is that i’m a libra. i’ve been told that makes me very happy, and happy people don’t kill people. that’s like legally blonde 101.”  

detective booth squinted at him, “is this a joke to you? you’re being interrogated for murder.”

logan leaned forward onto his forearms and shook his head, face somber, “sir, i never joke when it comes to reese witherspoon.” 

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

he didn’t really see how his childhood was relevant to morgan’s death, but there were few things he loved more than talking about himself. “i’m what you call...a scientific marvel. my mom was inseminated by some guy i don’t know––make sure you write that part down––and then i was raised by a string of nannies and my grandma. mom popped in from time to time to express her disappointment in all of my life choices, so don’t worry. you know, come to think of it, i think she’d like you. i could give you her number, but be forewarned, she’s kind of a ballbuster.” 

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

“kanye west changed my life.” he glanced down at his watch again and tapped his foot against the ground to the beat of the ticking clock in the background. 

“do you have somewhere to be, mr. wagner?”

sighing, logan nodded his head and drummed his fingers on top of the cool metal table, “yes, actually, i was supposed to meet this girl at my place, and she was going to bring chocolate sauce and whipped cream––and we weren’t having ice cream if you catch my drift, so i’m sure you understand why i’d appreciate it if we could hurry this up.”  

detective booth stared at him for a long time before sighing and turning the page in his notebook, and logan couldn’t help but grin. 

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals?

booth already looked sorry he asked, and logan supposed that was fair. he didn’t really seem like the kind of guy who had goals, but that was just objectively not true. “don’t laugh ‘cause it’s kind of a sensitive issue for me, but i’ve always wanted to get my name to the top of the scoreboard on the galaga machine at the movie theater. i’m this close, but this little fucker comes in with his babysitter on sundays and steals my spot every time. now, i know what you’re wondering, and the answer is yes, i did sleep with the sitter, but i’m not proud of it. i don’t want to win like that.”    

Q: How would you describe yourself?

“i think scientific marvel just about covered it.” 

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University?

“i’m on the hockey team, but my main passion in life is puppetry.” he paused and tapped the table, “write down that i said that ‘with impish mirth in my eyes’. i don’t want people thinking i’m a serial killer.” 

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid.

“i dabble in the art of tequila and weed.” he cleared his throat and leaned closer to the camera, “allegedly.” 

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between.

he cracked his knuckles and hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat, “where to begin, where to begin. i like to refer to myself as a serial short-term monogamist because that sounds better than being a hoe.” tapping his fingers on the table, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, “i have one best friend. eden rose. you’ve probably already interrogated her, and i agree with your assessment: she’s way too good to be hanging around me.”    

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst?

he hummed and leaned back in his chair, wishing that he had something to comfortably rest his feet on to completely sell his pose. “best thing? rachel monroe. worst thing?” he paused and pulled a face, “rachel monroe.” 

Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie?

“i’m a firm believer that lying always solves all your problems.” he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, “except for, you know, in a murder investigation.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“uh,” logan blinked and stared at the detective, “are you actually serious?” booth didn’t say anything. “no, man, of course not. i didn’t have any reason to kill her.”

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

“she’s my cousin. don’t you have a file on her family, my dude? it seems like you guys don’t really know shit about her life––which is weird ‘cause morgan made sure everyone knew everything about her life.”   

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic?

“we talked at christmas and easter. that was about it. she kind of cramped my style with her ‘no fucking my friends’ rule––and before you ask, no, i didn’t kill her over it. i just fucked her friends anyway.”

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

“a real pain in the ass, but she was my first pick for flag football at thanksgiving. she was ruthless.” 

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“i mean, i pretty much met her from the day that she was born, so...i guess better because i wasn’t potty-trained yet.”   

Q: What was your favorite thing about her?

“she had really hot friends. have you interrogated bridget flores yet? total smokeshow.”  

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her?

“she told my mom that i was the one that broke her lalique vase just because i spilled hot sauce on her dress. what an asshole, right? i had to miss homecoming because of that stupid vase, and my date was stephanie madsen. stephanie motherfucking madsen. she won homecoming queen, you know, with jason poyfair.” he pulled a face and shook his head, “total bullshit.”  

Q: Where were you the night of her murder?

logan squinted as he tried to recall his whereabouts, but he honestly couldn’t remember what he did yesterday, so it was a bit of a lost cause. “i was probably with a girl. maybe eden. if there was a party that night, then i was definitely there. i’ll check with my receptionist and get back to you.” 

Q: Where were you the day before?

 “i would say class, but that would be a fuckin’ lie. i was probably asleep until three in the afternoon, and then i probably hit up eden for some cookies.” 

Q: Where were you after?

he clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, “i was at a meeting. for hockey. i, uh, i had to leave early.” 

Q: How did you feel about her passing?

 he sighed, finally feeling the agitation of going over his cousin’s death again and again creep into his tone. “i don’t know. what do you think? it fucking sucked. my grandma couldn’t stop crying.” 

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot.

logan looked down at his hands and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. he wasn’t sure why, but every time he imagined her corpse, she always looked like she was five years old again. “it was fucked up. what else do you want me to say?”  

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died?

logan quickly placed his carefully crafted smirk back onto his face and held out his hand,  “enchanté, mademoiselle. logan, logan wagner, but you can call me james bond––and what might i call a fine lady such as yourself?” 

her stern face didn’t move. “detective. answer the question.” 

he sighed and retracted his hand, “you know what, i’m just going to call you karen. you look like a karen; you have a very karen-esque face. it’s a good thing; karens are hot.”

she tapped her pen against her pad of paper, and logan held up his hands. “jeez, relax, karen. i just wanted to get to know you a little better before we got down to business. i just told detective sunshine that i’m pretty sure i was at a party.”    

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

“i don’t really remember anything from any party i’ve been to. i’m a big fan of patron.” 

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

“uh ,,, just the entire night.” 

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“probably the entire hockey team. greek row, too, if they can manage to remember anything past breakfast.” 

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

logan smirked slightly, “are you asking for the explicit version ‘cause i could come up with something if you’re interested, or we could just create our own version of events.” 

detective karen something held up her hand, “that’s enough, thank you.” 

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false.

“i’m not really sure, but i believe what i’m saying, and nietzsche says that means it’s the truth, and we all know that philosophers never lie.”  

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan?

logan frowned and scratched his cheek, “i...i don’t actually know. probably something stupid.” he kind of wished that he had known at the time. not that he had any idea what he’d say to her if he knew that he’d never see her again, but it probably would’ve been better than whatever bullshit he said at the time. 

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before?

“past the age of five? no. and i want it on the record that no matter what my grandma says, i won that fight.” 

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan?

“yeah, ask booth about laliquegate. it’s a real page-turner.” 

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan?

“emotionally? no. physically?” he paused and shrugged his shoulder, “probably not.” 

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan?

“i like to focus on the future, karen. for example, what are you doing tonight because i’m a big fan of donuts and being handcuffed.” 

Q: Do you own a gun?

“yes, but it shoots strictly nerf foam, and i only use it in case of emergencies.” 

Q: Have you handled a gun before?

“i just explained that i’m very well-equipped to handle any nerf gun model made after 1997.” 

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun?

“me, but i got my license to carry from toys r us before they went bankrupt.”  

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

“i’m a lover not a fighter, karen. i thought you knew that about me already.” 

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death?

“probably eden, but don’t hold me to that. i might’ve been with a girl i don’t remember.” 

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die?

“what the fuck? no. people don’t just deserve to die.” he titled his head and paused,  “except maybe chris martin. fuck that guy and his dead fish eyes.”  

Q: Do you wish she was still alive?

“obviously, but despite popular belief, i’m not god.”

Q: Do you miss her?

he shoved away thoughts of a little girl with pigtails and pink dresses that skipped rocks with him in their grandma’s backyard. it was...easier not to have substance, far less painful. “i mean, she was an asshole, but she was family. it’s weird not seeing her at reunions anymore. i guess that’s kind of missing her, right?”

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“honestly, the same. i didn’t really talk to her that much. she was kind of a downer most of the time.” 

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you?

“again, i’m not actually god.” he grinned and winked at the detective, “but i think i could make an exception for you.”

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

“i’ll be honest, i haven’t exactly been forthcoming on exactly how much i like one tree hill––but i’m going to come clean now. i think that one tree hill is a gift to mankind, and i cried when nathan told haley that he loved her for the first time.” he paused and shrugged his shoulders,  “twice.” 

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time?

“i’m more than a little hurt you don’t trust me after all we’ve been through, karen. deeply hurt, and that’s on you. i hope you think about that for the rest of today and consider how your actions affect other people.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“i would not last one day in prison, so no.” 

[reluctantheartcd]

⑇ BRIDGET TASK 001 - interrogation.

Hello, Ms BRIDGET FLORES. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

bridget did not want to be in an interrogation room. she knew it well enough, the blank walls and cold metal table in front of her. the uncomfortable chair and a bar attached to the table for handcuffs, sitting in front of a two way mirror and knowing that behind it stood a group of detectives ready to delve into her life. it was all too familiar, and it brought back a feeling of nausea mixed with grief. hopefully she didn’t throw up this time, but at least she knew that she hadn’t done anything.

she tried to keep her mouth shut, to put on a show of being the ‘cool girl’ as much as she could. correcting her posture, she looked in the mirror and began to fix her hair before looking up to where the other officers and detectives most likely stood watching.

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name. 

Bridget rolled her eyes at the question, eying Booth suspiciously, “I feel like you should know that already if you’re interviewing me.”

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age. 

“I’m 20, I was born on November 27th. I’m a Sagittarius, if you want to know.” Her voice was cold and her expression remained neutral, waiting until she could leave the precinct.

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

“I grew up in Saratoga Springs. My life was fine. Talk to my parole officer if you want more detail.” She finished harshly, not wanting to talk about her past in any capacity. Her parole officer was more than likely behind the window, showing other detectives her file and briefing them on her previous interactions with law enforcement.

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

“Just read my file, it’ll tell you more than enough.” She could mention her ex, but it was too painful of a memory to bring up. Plus, there was no way that they weren’t already aware of the situation. She was still wearing the skin from the first time she was hit. The first bruise, even if it wasn’t visible it would always be there to her. Each new one, despite fading to others, they still remained. As she looked at the two-way mirror, she could see every time she was hurt, every scrape, every cut, every scar before it even scabbed over. Even though it was still visible, it wasn’t something she wanted to say out loud.

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals? 

With a smile, Bridget raised an eyebrow, “Is this a police interview or a first date, Detective?”

Q: How would you describe yourself?

“Now this really feels like a date. Why don’t you describe yourself for me?” she leaned forward, resting her arms on the cool table and making direct eye contact.

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University? 

“I play ultimate frisbee and I’m in SAGE and DIAC. For fun, I like to have sex. Do you, Detective?” She looked over at a very unamused Detective Booth and laughed to herself, looking once again past him at the two way mirror.

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid. 

“Of course not, drugs are bad and I’m underage. I’m a good girl, sir.”

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between. 

“I have a lot of friends, I’m a popular person. As for romantic relationships, let’s see...” she tapped her chin and clicked her tongue, considering rattling off names in hopes of annoying them all, but eventually deciding against it. “You could always be added onto the list, Booth.”

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst?

“This doesn’t seem relevant.” She responded almost immediately, her poker face still going strong.

Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie? 

“Only be able to lie. But if I can only lie, wouldn’t that answer itself be a lie?” Tapping her fingers on the table, Bridget cocked her head and clicked her tongue.

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? 

“No.”

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

“The first time I met her I was standing over her dead body,” She responded coldly before breaking into a laugh at Booth’s open mouth, “I’m fucking kidding. I was a freshman, rushing her sorority.”

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic? 

“We were friends, I guess.” A shrug accompanied her response and she mentally 

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

Exhaling harshly, she shook her head, “She was a cunt. But she was still my friend.”

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“I don’t know. Next question.”

Q: What was your favorite thing about her? 

“She could hook me up."

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her? 

“She got anything she wanted, no matter what it cost other people.”

Q: Where were you the night of her murder? 

“Drinking at a frat party. I was with Aleks.”

Q: Where were you the day before? 

“Thursday? I went to my classes and did homework like a good student.”

Q: Where were you after? 

“Doing homework. It was a Sunday.” 

Q: How did you feel about her passing? 

“It sucked, but so it goes.”

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot. 

“Yikes.”

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died? 

“It took you 20 minutes to come up with that question? I told you, I was at a party.”

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

Rolling her eyes, Bridget shook her head, “I already told you. And you can see the statement I made when it first happened, I’m sure it’s in your little file.”

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

Was this supposed to be a trick question or something? She was pretty sure that there would be a statute of limitations on how long ago one could be penalized for underage drinking; plus, that wasn’t really the issue at hand, “Yes.”

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“Ask Aleks. I was with him upstairs most of the night.” She paused to wink at Booth, “want to be my alibi if anything happens tonight?”

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

Shooting daggers at the detectives in front of her, she pursed her lips and shook her head, staying silent.

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false. 

“Don’t call me kid, it’s patronizing.”

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan? 

“I don’t remember, probably “goodbye.”

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before? 

“No.”

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan? 

“People fight, it’s human nature.”

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan? 

“If I was close to her then I was less likely to get hurt by her, so I guess.

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan? 

“Don’t you ever wonder about your life taking a different path?

Q: Do you own a gun? 

“No of course not.”

Q: Have you handled a gun before? 

“No.”

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun? 

A lump grew in Bridget’s throat at the question, her breath was stuck and she knew that her discomfort was evident, “...No.” She refused to elaborate on it, that person wasn’t even in her life anymore.

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

“Not ones in which I fought back.” She responded coldly, pointing to a scar on her jaw from a surgery last summer after her ex learned that she was back in Saratoga.

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death? 

“You already asked this like three times. Are you trying to catch me in a lie or something?”

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die? 

“No, but she did anyway.”

Q: Do you wish she was still alive? 

Scoffing, she answered weakly, “Ha, most of the time I don’t.”

Q: Do you miss her? 

“Not really.”

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“It’s been calmer, for sure.”

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you? 

“Mmm probably not.”

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

Shaking her head, Bridget decided not to entertain them any more. It wasn’t benefitting her at all and it wasn’t as if her emotional unavailability was anyone’s business.

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time? 

“Obviously.”

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? 

“No means no, detective. Do you need to go back to sensitivity training?”

Bridget stood up and walked toward the door, leaning her shoulder against it and picking at her nails, waiting to be let out.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

It felt good to get back to work. Getting back into your routine was good for you. A coffee was waiting for you on your desk, and you smiled. You loved that you and Niall kept up the tradition of bringing each other coffee. As you sat at your desk, you emailed your supervisor the video you worked on, on Friday. You got to work on photo-shopping some photos that were sitting in your inbox. After a couple of hours, you had a question about a deadline, so you went down to Niall’s office. He had his eyebrows furrowed at his screen when you knocked.

“Hey!” He said, perking up.

“Morning. I have a quick question about the McGrath project.”

“Sure thing, what’s up?”

“When exactly do they need things by? Seems like they’re looking for a tight turnaround on a lot of work.”

“Think you’ll need the intern’s help on this one?”

“Yeah, if he could work on the audio files for me, just clean them up, it’ll make it easier for me to edit in with the visuals.”

“Alright, I’ll get him on it. I’ll send him a message on Teams to go see you this afternoon when he’s in.”

“Thanks. Did you have a good long weekend?”

“Yeah, although, I’m happy to be back at work.”

“Same here.” You sit down in front of his desk. “Did you like Sarah’s family?”

“They were great, little awkward at first, but not too bad. Did ya happen to bring my dessert?” You giggle.

“Yes, it’s in the breakroom fridge with your name on it, so no one will touch it.”

“Oh thank god, I’ve been dreamin’ of it, thank you.” He looks down, then looks back at you. “So, how was your Thanksgiving?”

“It went way smoother than I thought. My dad was great with Harry, and so was the rest of the family. He’s even going to be taking some pictures of my nephew on in a couple of weeks.”

“Really?” Niall wasn’t sure if you’d tell him about the fight you had with Harry, so he wasn’t going to pry.

“Yeah, my sister-in-law asked him. She said she looked at his Instagram page and loved his work. Oh! And he asked me to go home with him for Christmas. We booked our flights last night, I put in for my vacation time this morning. I’m so excited.”

“Wow, that’s great. Guess we’ll all be on the plane together.”

“I can’t wait to meet his mom and sister.”

“They’re very nice people.”

“Do you think they’ll like me?”

“They’ll love you. So, is that all that happened?” You raise an eyebrow at him, then your mouth falls open. 

“He told you, didn’t he?” Niall just looks at you and nods. “Jesus Christ, you know, it’s like he’s a kid running off to daddy whenever something goes wrong.”

“I’m his best mate, (y/n), of course he was going to come to me.”

“So what, you just give advice on how to deal with me?” You gasp. “Were the flowers your idea?”

“No, he did that on his own.” He sighs. “He just wanted to show you he was sorry. Don’t worry, though I yelled at him.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I was pissed when he told me what he said to ya. I nearly hit him.”

“You did not.”

“I did! I threatened him for sure. I thought he was going to throw up, he felt terrible.”

“I forgave him.”

“He told me.”

“My Nannie found out about what happened.” You say looking down.

“You told her?!”

“I had no choice! My fucking mom brought it up basically right in front of her.”

“Why’d she do that?”

“I can’t even get into the stupidity that is my mother right now. But I’m glad I told her, she gave me some advice on some other things too.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I’m seeing them tonight. Harry’s gonna pick me up here, and then we’re driving home to have dinner. I’m hoping to just go out with my Nannie, he said he’d distract my mom.”

“What about your sister?”

“I’m praying she’ll just stay in the basement.”

“So is everything all good with you and Harry now?”

“Yeah, we made up.” You blush. “Well, I better get back to work.”

“Lunch later?”

“You bet!”

//

Around two in the afternoon, your intern showed up.

“Hey, Matt, how were your classes this morning?” You smiled at him as he set his laptop up at the other side of your desk.

“Good, much rather be here though. How was your morning?”

“Productive. Did Niall tell you what I need from you?”

“Yup.” He takes out his headphones and plugs them into his laptop. “You need me to clean up the audio for that project.”

“Yes, it’s a little too fuzzy. I don’t know what equipment was used to record it, but it sounded terrible. Guess if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.” You scoff.

The two of you work together the rest of the afternoon. He moved to sit next to you so you could compare clips. He was leaned in pretty close to you, but you didn’t think much of it. The time got away from you, you didn’t realize it was ten of five.

Harry decided to come into your office to pick you up. He wanted to say hi to Niall. The two of them were walking down to your office, both of them stopping short when they saw you giggling with Matt. Harry cleared his throat, breaking you from your giggles.

“Harry!” You beamed. You look down at the time. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late. Matt, you’re good to go for the day, sorry to have kept you. Great work today.” You smile at him. His face flushes a bit.

“Um, thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to help with this project some more.”

“Sounds good. I have some meetings in the afternoon, but you can feel free to work in here.”

“Alright, thanks.” He grabs his things and looks at Niall. “Good evening Mr. Horan.”

“Matt.” He nods.

Harry eyes the boy who simply smiles at him nervously.

“Niall, Matt is crazy talented. We were already to combine the clips.”

“That’s great. The sooner this project is done, the better. I hate workin’ with these people.”

“Same, they’re too picky.” You grab your things, and give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“So, who was that kid?”

“His name is Matt, he’s our media intern.” You say. “He comes in a few times a week.”

“Does he mostly work with you?”

“Yup, and with the people on our social media team.”

“Whatsa matter Harry, ya jealous of a little boy?” Niall teases as you all walk out to the parking lot.

“Shut up, ya twat.” Niall laughs.

“You guys have fun tonight.”

You both get into Harry’s car.

“How was your day, baby?”

“Good, actually. Got caught up on some stuff I needed to get done.”

“That’s good. Hey do you think we could stop at a Walmart or something on the way home tonight? I printed a picture for my desk that I want to get a frame for.”

“Sure, we can do tha’. What picture ya print?”

“Just one of my baby.” You poke his dimple.

“Just one of me, not the two of us?”

“I don’t need to look at a picture of myself all day.”

“Which one was it?”

“The one where you look like a model, from our weekend trip.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

There wasn’t any traffic, surprisingly, so you get home in about forty-five minutes. Harry preoccupies your mom, so you’re able to take your Nannie out for dinner. This was the first time you drove Harry’s car, it felt great. You and Nannie had a wonderful dinner together. You laughed so hard your water came out your nose. She’s not supposed to have dairy, but she did, so when she belched at the table you lost it. It felt like old times with her.

When you got back to your mom’s, Harry was hanging out in the kitchen with your mom and…oh no.

“Glad I could finally meet your boyfriend.” Your oldest sister, Bridget, says to you.

“Oh, yeah, well if you had been at Thanksgiving, you could’ve met him then.” You give her a small side hug.

“I was there, you just got there late.”

“Okay, well, we need to head back before it gets super late.” You give your Nannie another hug and kiss, and say goodbye to your mom.

The car ride was quiet at first. You teared up a bit after saying goodbye again, but you felt better than yesterday.

“So, how was dinner?” he finally asks.

“It was great! I laughed so hard my water came out of my nose.” You giggle.

“Really? Wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Um, how long was Bridget around?”

“Only a few minutes. Your mum made me this big salad, it was delicious.”

“She’s good at whipping up a salad.”

“Bridget is…interesting.”

“That’s one way to describe her. She’s so awkward, isn’t she?”

“A little, yeah. More like socially awkward?”

“Yup, that’s it exactly. Thanks again for doing this tonight. I feel much better.”

You and Harry stop off at Walmart so you can grab your frame, and then go back to your apartment. You both were exhausted by the time you got back that you both went straight to bed. The next morning, you got up and did your thing, leaving him dead asleep. You kiss his forehead before you go.

//

You set up the picture of him on your desk. It distracts you most of the day, how could one man be so beautiful? You go to your meetings, and Matt is at your desk when you come back.

“Hey Matt.” You smile, sitting down.

“Afternoon. How were your meetings?”

“Tiring.” You sigh. “Sometimes things could easily be solved with a quick email. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“So that guy yesterday with Mr. Horan”, he points to the picture of Harry on your desk, “was that your boyfriend?”

“Hm? Yeah, his name is Harry.” You look at the photo and smile. “Niall actually set us up a few months ago.”

“No offense, but he’s not the guy I’d picture you with. He looked a little scary.” You laugh.

“Oh god, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He actually cleans up pretty well. He works at a more casual place so he doesn’t have to be dressed up like us.”

“Lotta tattoos.”

“Yup. He’s so great, never thought I’d be with someone so great.” You smile at him. “You don’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend?” He laughs nervously.

“Not at the moment, and it would be a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“No, no, I get it. I sort of just date around. Relationships are complicated in college.”

“Oh believe me, I remember. I’m only a couple years older than you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He smiles. “When did you graduate?”

“2017.” You clear your throat and look back at your computer to keep working.

“Wow, really close in age.” He says looking back at his laptop. “I turn twenty-one soon.”

“Oh!” You say looking at him. “That’s exciting! When?”

“Next month.” He looks at you with a grin. “Any good bars you’d recommend?”

“Well, if you’re hoping to do something fun with your friends, I would just go to Pinz. There’s so much to do there.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve been there before, but they kick you out early if you’re underage.” He laughs. “But I’ll definitely ask my friends if they wanna go. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“You’re welcome.”

The time got away from the two of you again, diligently working on your tedious project, taking small breaks to chat and tell stories from your days in college. Matt was a good kid, it was nice that you were sort of mentoring him. You two were laughing about something when you heard a knock on the opening of your door. It was Harry again, who was holding a small plant. He was also dressed nicely in his khakis and a button up.

“What’s all this?” You ask excitedly, getting up to greet him. Matt watches you walk over to him.

“Thought I’d surprise ya.” He kisses you on the cheek. “You don’t have any plants in your office, thought you could use one. They’re supposed to help brighten your day.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” You hug him. Matt makes a coughing noise. “Sorry, Matt, forgot you were here for a second.” You blush, and look down at your watch. It was just about five. “Save up your work for the day and feel free to head out. I’m definitely done for the day. Great work this afternoon.” You smile at him going back to your desk to power down your computer. Matt can’t help but glance at your butt as you lean over your keyboard. You were wearing your navy dress that no man would be immune to.

“Could you sign this? My advisor wanted to make sure I’m actually showing up for my internship.” He hands you a slip of paper. You read it over then sign.

“Here ya go.” You pack up your things as he closes his laptop. Harry watching him carefully from the doorway. Ready to throttle him if he checks you out again.

“Oi, look what the cat dragged in.” Niall says, passing your office. “Back again?”

“Suprisin’ my girl with a nice dinner.”

“How romantic.” He rolls his eyes. “Come to think of it, I’m actually doin’ the same with Sarah tonight.”

“Aw, the two best boyfriends in the world.” You say putting your jacket on. “Well, goodnight Matt.”

“Night, thanks for another great afternoon.” He smiles. He looks at Niall and Harry who both have their arms crossed. “Um, gentlemen.” Both nod at him, and watch him leave.

“Jesus, (y/n), he’s got it bad for you.” Niall says.

“Stop, he does not.”

“I have to agree with Niall, he was checkin’ ya out, babe.”

“What? When?” You all start walking out of the building, toward the parking lot.

“When you stuck your ass in his face.” Harry says cheekily.

“I did not do that!” You scoff. “He’s a nice boy, and he does great work.”

“It’s true, he’s talented.” Niall starts laughing. “But he definitely has a crush on you. He was in the break room the other day with some of the older ladies, and apparently he went on about how great you are.”

“He did not.”

“He did!”

“Shit, should I talk to him? Hopefully he got the hint today, I practically doted on Harry in front of him.”

“You did?” Harry smiles.

“Yeah, he asked if you were my boyfriend, and I said yes and told him how great you were.” You start laughing. “I also think he’s a bit scared of you.”

“Good.” Niall and Harry say in unison. You swat an arm at the both of them.

//

Harry had taken an uber to your office so you could take your car. He didn’t let you drive though.

“So where exactly are you taking me?”

“Just to a simple restaurant.”

“Okay, but tomorrow we’re cooking.”

“Already got groceries for that. Went shoppin’ at lunch today.” You lean across to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“My sweetie.” You coo.

Harry took you to a nice little vegetarian restaurant. You both had a quick veggie burger. You let him pay since it was all part of a surprise evening.

You kicked your shoes off when you got inside, and hung up your coat. You plop down on the couch, and turn the TV on. Harry sits next to you and mindlessly takes your hand in his.

“You good with The Office?”

“You bet.” He smiles at you. You both put your feet up on the coffee table.

“So, what made you wanna surprise me tonight?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Thought about ya all day. I really need to get my ass outta bed in the morin’ to give ya a proper goodbye.”

“Oh, but you’re so cute when you’re sleepy. I love giving you a little kiss goodbye.” You lean next to him. He puts his arm around your shoulders, and you lean in further. You put a hand on his thigh.

You loved moments like this, these simply domestic times where you just enjoyed each other’s company. It was nice having someone to binge watch TV with. You got to the dinner party episode of The Office. When Michael says, “You know I have sensitive teeth, how could say that?” You completely lose it. You have to pause the episode because you’re laughing so hard. You start crying from laughter. Harry starts laughing at your infectious laugh.

“Was it really that funny?”

“Yes! I forgot, hahahaha, I forgot he said that!” You can barely breathe. “God, this episode is incredible.” You wipe your eyes. Harry giggles at you.

“I think someone might be tired.”

“I think you’re right.” You sigh. “Shall we?” You stand up and take his hand.

You both brush your teeth and wash your faces, a habit you had gotten Harry into. He used to only washed his face in the shower, you showed him the error of his ways.

“Baby, could you unzip me please?” You ask as he’s just taking off his shirt.

“Sure thing, love.”

Harry comes up behind you and unzips your dress. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra immediately. Sighing at the relief from the tight material. You push the top of your dress down, Harry peels your bra off the rest of the way, looking at your back.

“Jesus.” He says, tracing over the red marks on your back. “No wonder you hate wearin’ these things.”

“I just need to buy some new ones.” You walk over to your dresser, half dressed. “Maybe you could come to the mall with me this weekend?”

“Sure.” He stifles a laugh. You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just look cute like that.” You look down at yourself and start laughing.

You slide your dress the rest of the way down and put it in your hamper. You slip a t-shirt on over yourself, and slide your panties off, sighing again.

“Why didn’t you change when we got home? You could’ve been way more comfy.” Harry says taking his pants off.

“I’m just so lazy, it’s too much work to change sometimes.” He rolls his eyes playfully at you.

You both get into bed, it was only a little after nine, so you both stay up a while longer. Harry takes out his book from the night table he used on “his” side of the bed. You scroll on your phone. He took out his reading glasses as well. You secretly loved when he’d wear them. It wasn’t often.

“Is that a good book babe?”

“Hm?” He says taking his glasses off to look at you. “Oh, yeah it is.”

“What’s it about?”

“Nothin’ special, just a romance novel.” You try not to laugh. You didn’t want to make fun of the things he liked. “I know, it’s silly, but I like them. I don’t have to think too much while I read ‘em, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. I like to read on my phone, really tires my eyes out.”

“I try not to screen before bed if I can help it.”

“You’re better than I am. I literally need my phone to fall asleep.”

“Well, s’not the only thing that makes you sleepy.” He smirks at you. “I can think of another thing that really tuckers you out.” You put your phone on your night table.

“What’s that?” You ask, knowing full well what the answer is.

Harry leans in close to you, giving you a deep kiss. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth, tasting the mint from your toothpaste. Your hands move to pull him on top of you, wanting to feel his full weight on you. One of his hands goes into your hair, and the other to your hip. Your hands are on his lower back while your legs wrap around him. He bit down on your bottom lip, and sucked on it, causing you to moan again. The hand on your hip goes up under your shirt, and grips your full breast. His fingers twist your nipple piercing. You groan into his mouth, your lips moving to nip at his jaw and neck.

“Go ahead, bite me baby.” He says into your ear.

You sink your teeth into his tender skin, and he rolls his hips into you. You suck on him slowly, sliding your tongue over his skin to soothe him the second you taste a little of his blood.

“God, that feels so fuckin’ good.” He growls.

Harry lifts your shirt up over your head, and dives his head into your breasts. He leaves wet kisses on both, before taking your left nipple between his teeth. You arch up into him, loving the way the sensation feels.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Bet you could come, just for me doin’ this.”

“Fuck.” He sucks on you harder.

“But I don’t feel like gettin’ ya off that easy.” He reaches down between your legs and smirks. “Always so wet for me, love.” He looks at you. “I’d like to have a taste, that alright?” You nod your head yes. “Like to try it a little differently, could we do that?”

“How, um, shit, how do you want to um…” You can barely get a word out while he plays with your clit.

“Well, I’d like you to flip over, so I can do it from behind.” You sit up against the headboard and give him a look. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know if I want my ass in your face like that.”

“It’ll be just like when we-“

“No, it’s different. I mean, what if you accidentally lick my asshole or something?” He just blinks at you as his cheeks grow red. “That wouldn’t gross you out?!”

“Not really, you’re a pretty clean girl. You shower every chance you get.” He chuckles. “Sometimes things happen in the heat of the moment. I’d lick ya anywhere you wanted.” Now your cheeks are growing red. “But if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“Why do you want to do it that way?”

“Well, to get ya feelin’ real good, and then I’d like to slip my fingers in from behind.” Your eyes grow wide.

“Oh, I see.”

“If you don’t want-“

“Go turn the light off.” He smirks, and does as you say.

Harry comes back from the bed, and waits for your to flip onto your stomach. His hands find your hips, and brings your butt up closer so you’re on your knees and elbows. He gets right behind you and kisses you on each shoulder, biting down hard and sucking the way he likes to do to you. He places light kisses down your back. His hands grip your ass, and you gasp when he bites down on one of your cheeks.

“Alright?”

“Yes.” Your breathing is getting heavy. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can I do it again? You have such a nice ass.”

“Mhm.”

He bites down on your other cheek and you gasp again. Why did it feel so good? One of his hands reaches around to rub your clit. He takes it away and rubs you from underneath, a finger running up and down your wet slit.

“Harry.” You moan.

“I’m takin’ my time, be patient.”

His hands spread your cheeks apart, then uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You feel his tongue dive into you without warning.

“Shit.” You groan.

He licks and sucks on you, drinking in your wetness. He drags his tongue up and down in the most sensual motions.

“Oh, Harry.” You moan, sinking your nails into your pillow.

His groans send vibrations through your body. You push back on his face, making him lick and suck harder. His tongue drags up from your center to just under your button.

“If you do that I swear to god I will not kiss you for a week!” He lifts his head.

Without saying anything, he takes his hand and rubs your wet center and drags a thumb up to bring your wetness to just under where his tongue was previously.

“How ‘bout this?”

“You can rub it, but don’t stick it in.”

He rubs his thumb around your hole and you can’t help but moan. It felt good, in an odd way. You felt his middle finger slide into your dripping pussy. Your back arches.

“Good?”

“Yes, more please.”

He slowly slips a second finger in, feeling you tighten around him. Your walls soft and spongey, making him moan as he starts to pump in and out of you. His other hand reaches around to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Harry.”

“Do you like feelin’ me, so deep?”

“So deep, so good.”

Your legs start to shake, you can barely keep yourself up. You’re panting and moaning his name over and over.

“Go ahead, come for me.”

Your hands rake into your pillow as you release all over his fingers. He wasn’t done with you yet though. Harry sucks off your juices from his fingers, and flips you back over. Without giving you a chance to catch your breath, his mouth is on your clit.

“Fucking Christ!”

His tongue darts back into you as his thumb works your clit. Your hands are in his hair, grabbing on tightly. Harry groans into you repeatedly.

“Harry! I’m gonna ahhhhh..” You release onto his tongue. You were drenched in sweat, but he still wasn’t done with you.

Harry puts his mouth back on your clit, and slips two fingers back into you, curling them up in a come here motion. What was he trying to do to you? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t think straight.

“Ah!” He hit your g-spot. He smirks while continuing to nibble on your clit.

He continues to pump in and out of you while hitting the spot. You feel your stomach start to tighten again, and your legs are quaking. You tighten yourself around his fingers.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You scream, slamming your head into your pillow, arching up fully off the mattress. Harry let out a loud groan of your name.

He shifts himself, before he can lick up your juices, you pull his head up by his hair.

“Please.” You say with your eyes closed. “Please, let me tap out. It’s too much.” Your legs were still shaking a bit, and your chest was heaving. You open your eyes to look at him. He had a big smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you once I could do this for hours if you let me?”

“But Harry.” You whine. “It’s a school night.” He giggles at you and gets off the bed. “Where are you going, I want to reciprocate.” He takes his boxers off, and grabs a different pair.

“You did already.” You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What?”

“I came in my shorts. You were so wet, and just tasted so good, I couldn’t hold on.” He gets back into the bed with you. He kisses you on the top of your head. Your mouth agape. “What?” You can’t find words, your head was still spinning. “Speechless?” He smirks. You nod your head yes. “C’mere, let’s have a cuddle.”

You lay your head on his chest, not caring that you’re too hot to cuddle. He really did know what it took to tucker you out. You were just about to fall asleep when you realized you needed to pee.

“Shit, I have to go clean myself up!”

“How come girls always need to pee after sex?”

“You gotta clean up after someone goes down on you, or you could get a UTI, girls get them easier than guys, and they are painful.”

“You’ve had one before?”

“Only once.” You shudder. “Not something I would wish on my worst enemy. It’s the most uncomfortable thing in the world.” You get out of bed and fall to the floor. “Oof!” Harry crawls to the edge of the bed and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yup, just didn’t quite have my balance.” You stand up slowly. Your legs were really shaky.

You rush into the bathroom, and pee to clean yourself up. You come back and slowly get into bed. Oh yeah, you were going to be sore in the morning.

“Ya good?”

“Mhm.”

“Turn over so I can spoon ya.” You giggle and give him a quick kiss before turning over. “I love you baby, goodnight.”

“Love you too, sweet dreams.”

//

You woke up extremely groggy the next morning, and actually hit snooze when your alarm went off; something you never did. You actually hit snooze twice. By the time you got up, you could only shuffle around you. You were sore all over. Between the way his fingers went in and out of you, and how roughly he rubbed your clit, you wanted to slap him upside the head for making you walk like you had a stick up your ass. You opted for a pair of black slacks, a blue blouse, and a light grey blazer. You left your hair down and curly, not having the energy to straighten or put it up. Really, even if you had just run your blow dry through it, it wouldn’t have looked like such a mess. By the time you washed our face and got dressed, you realized you just did not have time for a full face of makeup. So you put some concealer on and the couple of blemishes you had, and finished up in the bathroom.

You glared at him sleeping happily, face shoved into the pillow. You weren’t really mad at him. You were more so mad at the fact that you had to leave him. He was so cozy and warm. Harry’s work days were so different from yours, most of the time he didn’t have to up until eight, when you already needed to be at work. You wobble over to him, and kiss the top of his head, and leave the bedroom.

You stop off for yours and Niall’s coffees, and go straight to his office. He looked tired this morning too. You remembered that he and Sarah had a date last night as well. You walk right up to his desk, and plop his coffee down, without saying much, you both grunt at each other.

Just as you’re sitting down at your desk, you see him appear in the doorway with a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“You look terrible, you know that?”

“You came all the way down here to tell me that?” He chuckles.

“Are you alright? You look paler than a ghost.”

“You’re such a dick!” You giggle. “I’m just not wearing any makeup today.” You see your reflection in the computer screen. “Jesus, and my hair looks worse than earlier.” You scramble in your desk drawer and take out an elastic. You stand up, bend over, and put your hair up in a messy bun. “Is this any better?”

“Sort of…did you not sleep well?”

“No, I slept fine. Probably went to bed a little too late, and I made the mistake of hitting snooze this morning. I swear it’s always worse if you don’t just get up.”

“What did you and Harry do last night?” Flashes of your three separate, incredibly intense orgasms come to your mind and you shiver as you feel a pulse run through you.

“Um, we just went to dinner, you know, watched a little TV.” Niall steps in more to your office, and closes the door a bit. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Get a little frisky did ya? S’okay, I did too.” He sighs happily. “Hadn’t seen Sarah since Friday.”

“I’m so glad you too are doing so well.”

“Me too. So, go on, gimme the details.”

“You’re like a little school girl!” You swat at him, and lean against your desk. “We just tried some different positions.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re walkin’ with your ass clenched.” He laughs.

“Why were you looking at my ass?” You laugh harder.

“I wasn’t, but I noticed you were walkin’ funny.” He gasps. “Did you two do it?”

“No.” You say bluntly.

“Then what could he have done to ya?”

“He...” You blush and close your office door all the way. “Fingered me from behind.” You whisper looking down at the ground. “But that wasn’t it. He flipped me over immediately and did it again, and then…he just kept, you know, going.” You make eye contact with your friend who has a smirk on his face. “It was like, primal or something. I don’t know, I had to tap out eventually.”

“He has sex like a lesbian, I swear to god.” You both start laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, like, girls just keep going until they can’t go anymore.”

“How would you know that?”

“We had some friends in college that were lesbians, told us a whole bunch of tricks. Your friend Rachel hasn’t ever mentioned anything to you?”

“Not really, though, come to think of it, when she would bring a girl over…well, they’d be in there for hours.”

“Exactly. I think as long as you’re not lettin’ him stick it in, this is how it’s going to be.”

“I’m not complaining or anything.”

“No, I know, but he’s just going to come up with more creative things like this until you can’t stand it anymore.”

“Oh, so this is just some covert operation for him to get his dick wet?” You scoff. “He doesn’t even need me to touch him to get off, Niall. He just likes doing that.”

“What in the fuck do you mean?”

“He has come, and will come, from just being down there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious! It happened a lot when we first started getting intimate, then it sort of stopped the more I reciprocated. It really turns him on.”

“Jesus, no wonder he had a fuckin’ line of women out his door. It was like a fuckin’ deli counter at our apartment sometimes.” He shakes his head, and notices your fallen face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t mention his past to you.”

“S’okay.” You shrug. “It was before we knew each other. I wasn’t exactly a prude myself.” You sigh. “Did he really sleep with that many women?”

“Do you really wanna know the answer to that?”

Before you can answer, there’s a knock on your door. You reach around Niall to open it, and see your supervisor. She gives you both a funny look, wondering why your door would be closed with just you and Niall.

“Good morning you two. A little meeting before the meeting?”

“Just catchin’ up on the gossip to wake up a bit.” Niall says. He was better at smoothing things over than you were. “Shall we? Just need a second to grab my laptop.” You grab yours and head for the conference room.

“Are you feeling alright?” She says to you as you both walk down the hall.

“Um, yeah, just a slow start this morning. Didn’t have time for makeup.”

“Ah. Happens to the best of us.” You both smile as you sit down in the swivel chairs in the conference room. Niall comes bouncing in.

You have a discussion about the project you and Matt have been working on. Your supervisor is pleased with how much has gotten done already, and tells you to keep up the good work. You can’t help but feel like her eyes keep traveling to your neck, you realize that since your hair is up, the splotch Harry left on your neck is visible. And since you didn’t have time for makeup, you didn’t even think to cover it up. You nonchalantly put your hand over the spot as she speaks with Niall about what’s needed next.

After the meeting you go into the bathroom with the flat iron you keep in your desk, and tame your hair, now able to leave it down.

“You feel okay?” Matt asks, coming into your office.

“Christ, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that today. Didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to not wear makeup.” He sits at the chair on the other side of your desk.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything.” You sigh.

“It’s fine, I’m just really tired.”

“Long day?”

“Yeah.” You say, not wanting to elaborate further with your twenty-year-old intern. After what Niall mentioned yesterday, you thought it would be good to be a bit colder to him. “It’s like five hundred degrees in here today, excuse me.” You get up to take your blazer off, and hang it on the back of your door. You open your office door up all the way to get the most airflow. Matt can’t help but look at the small bit of cleavage peeking through the top of your blouse.

About an hour into working together your phone starts to buzz, you smile when you see Harry’s name. Matt had his headphones so you figured he wouldn’t mind if you took the personal call.

“Hey you.” You say.

“Hey babe.” He says warmly.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, had a quick break, thought I’d see how your day was going.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. It’s good, I’m a little tired.”

“I heard your alarm go off a couple times.”

“I hit snooze.”

“You never do that.”

“Well, like I said, I was tired.”

“We didn’t go to bed that late.” He was being coy with you. He wanted you to say out loud, just exactly why you were tired. Normally you would, but you didn’t want Matt to risk hearing you.

“Um…Matt’s here in my office, so I can’t really…be cute with you right now.” You say, cheeks flushing. Matt looks up at you, and notices your nervousness.

“Ohhhh, I see, so you don’t want him to hear that you’re tired because your boyfriend went to town on your pussy last night?” You stand up immediately and walk to the other side of your office.

“Harry.” You whisper harshly. “Stop it.”

“What?” He chuckles. “Alright, alright, don’t wanna getcha all hot and bothered without me there to take of ya, I see.”

“Seriously.” You feel yourself starting to sweat, and an ache brewing within you. “You know,” You whisper carefully, looking over your shoulder to make sure Matt is still working. “I could barely walk this morning? Looked like I had a stick up my ass.”

“And you’re blaming me?” He asks sarcastically.

“Who else is there to blame? I mean, I could take it a step further and say your fat fuckin’ fingers.”

“Hey, your intern is there, remember? And my fingers were only fat because my rings were still on. They get a bit swollen at the end of the day.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You glance at Matt again. “He can’t hear me, I moved, and he has his headphones in.” You sigh.

“Only a few more hours. I think you’re really gonna like dinner tonight, I’m excited to make it for you.”

“You’re so sweet.” You yawn. “Alright, I better go, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You shake your head and sit back down, giving Matt a half smile. Little did you know he had paused the music he was listening to, and heard every bit of your conversation. Well, at least your half of it. His cheeks were a bit red.

“I just need to go, um, refill my water bottle.” He says.

“Sure, you don’t need my permission, not like you’re in class.” You smile.

Matt was a pretty good looking guy. He was tall, not as tall as Harry, but still a good height. He had a little muscle on him, but he was lean, definitely not a football player. You recalled that he was on the club rugby team at his school. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was incredibly nice and trustworthy when it came to getting his work done. You were thankful for having an intern this semester.

He returns in a few minutes, taking a big gulp of his water, and gets back to work. Your afternoon is more quiet than usual, but he needed to know this was a place of work, and not a place for him to lust after you. You picked up on more of when he would take small glances of you, and when his eyes would dip to your chest. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, but it was something you were keeping your eyes on.

“So, I, uh talked to my friends about Pinz.” He says, you take your earbuds out.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, they said it was a great idea. We’re planning this huge party. A couple of my buddies turn twenty-one next month too.”

“That’ll be fun, Matt.” He loved when you said his name.

“Thanks again for the suggestion.”

“Any time.”

“What did you do for your twenty-first birthday?”

“Well, my birthday is over the summer, so my girlfriends and I rented out this beach house on the seacoast. We had a big party, but it was also fun to just be on the beach for a long weekend with my closest friends.”

“You’re lucky to have a summer birthday. Way more party options. I feel like as a kid we always had to do like movie theater parties and stuff like that.” You didn’t want to get into childhood birthday parties, or think of the fights your parents had the two times you were allowed to have a party. You simply nodded along.

Your phones goes off, and you see a text from Niall. You open it to see he sent you an image, a meme from an inside joke. You burst out laughing, and can hear him laughing from his office. You get up to go down the hall to laugh with him. Matt is thoroughly confused when you come back in, wiping tears from your eyes.

“You two are close, huh? You and Mr. Horan?” He asks as you sit back down.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been friends since I started here. We sorta latched onto each other since we’re two of the younger people in the office. Not that I don’t like other people we work with, but it’s nice to have someone to relate to. He’s only a couple years older than I am.”

“And you both just clicked right away?”

“Yeah.” You smile, thinking back to the day you first met Niall. He was still dying his hair blond back then. “We have a lot in common, same sense of humor. We started eating lunch together almost every day, then we started casually buying each other coffee. I remember the first time I hung out with him outside of work, it was actually a work holiday party. We stuck to each other like glue.”

“Did you two ever date? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“Me and Niall!” You scoff. “No…now that I think about it, I think we have a no dating policy here.” You pause to ponder. “Or if you do date your colleague, you have to disclose it with HR. No, we’re sort of like work spouses, you know? He’s been there for me through some tough times. I’m lucky to know him and have him in my life the way I do.”

“You two make working here look like fun.”

“Working in an office isn’t always glamorous, but when you make good friends it definitely helps. Knowing I’ll get to chat with him Monday morning always gets me excited for the week.”

“So you two don’t hang out outside of work much?”

“No we do, just not as often as we were. He’s dating one of my best girlfriends, and I’m obviously with Harry, so some priorities have changed. But, we still make time for each other. Double dates have been fun.” You smile. “We look out for each other, we always have each other’s back.”

“That’s good. I hope I make friends so easily when I actually start working.”

“Do you think you wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It’s just weird about coming into the real world. I mean, I only have one more year of school left.”

“It flies by, that’s for sure. But, you’re making good connections here. We like to keep our interns too, so you never know what could happen.”

“You’re a very nice person, has anyone ever told you that?” Your eyes widen a little.

“Um, once or twice, but thank you.” You look at the time, and see it’s 4:30. “Hey, if you wanna duck out early, feel free. My brain is fried, so I think I’m just gonna catch up on email for the next half hour.”

“Oh, alright thanks.” He gets up and packs his laptop away. “I didn’t, uh, make you uncomfortable with my comment did? I was just trying to say that I appreciate how nice you’ve been to me. You all could treat me as a coffee boy, but you don’t. I like getting to work on real projects.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. And thanks. Wouldn’t be much of an internship if we had you running around doing nonsense. You’re definitely valued here.” After he leaves you go down to Niall’s office and plop down into one of his chairs.

“I feel like I either see you all day, or not at all. There’s no in between.” He smiles.

“I think you were right about Matt.”

“What do you mean?” His smile completely gone.

“I think he has a crush on me or something.”

“What happened?”

“I was very quiet with him today, up until the end of the day, I sent him out early. But I noticed he kept like, stealing glances…especially here.” You point to your cleavage. “I could wear the highest neckline, but there’s nothing I can do, I have big boobs.”

“Was he like blatantly staring?”

“No, but he was definitely looking, trying to be discrete about it, but a woman just knows when she’s being ogled. And then he started asking me all these questions about you and I, and how we became such great friends, and if we ever dated.”

“Maybe he was just curious…if he gets creepy or weird let me know and we can tell HR. Gotta cut the shit on the kind of behavior right away.”

“Definitely. God I hope he didn’t hear me on the phone with Harry earlier.”

“You took a call with him in there?”

“I thought he was just calling to say hi, but I moved to other side of the room, and he had his headphones in.”

“Could’ve paused his music to listen in.”

“I was whispering.” Niall sighs.

“How old is he?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

“I don’t want to make this sound like a boys will be boys thing, but try to see it from a different perspective. He’s a young guy who gets to sit an office, alone, with a pretty, older woman for four hours a day. I bet he goes back to his buddies at school and tells them all about what you wear and how you laugh. But like I said, if it gets weird or creepy, we will squash it.”

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable, and I’ve made it clear I have a boyfriend…people are allowed to have crushes. May not even be a crush, he might just be attracted to me.” Niall sighs. “What?”

“I don’t want to make you upset, but sometimes you’re a little too nice. It’s okay to be upfront with him, set some guidelines to how this all works. He doesn’t actually work here, he needs to know what appropriate behavior is and what’s not.” He sighs again. “Look, why don’t I talk to him next time he’s in. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah, I think it’ll be better if you chat with him first.” You groan. “It’s not easy being irresistible you know?” You both giggle.

//

You can’t wait to get home to Harry. He had seen you without makeup plenty of times, so at least you knew he wouldn’t make any comments about your appearance. When you keyed into your apartment, you smelled something absolutely delectable.

“Hey you!” He says, looking at you over his shoulder. You walk over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes…made from bananas. Thought we could have breakfast for dinner.” He smiles.

“I could cry this look amazing, thank you.” You give him another kiss on the cheek. “Just gonna go change into something cozy.”

“I have some extra sweats here, feel free to wear m’pants.”

“Thanks babe.”

Nothing was better than supreme domestic bliss. Nothing was better than coming home, and having your apartment smell so amazing. Nothing was better than Harry, plain and simple.

[told-you-teddy]

▌│█║▌║▌║   TASK 001.  ║▌║▌║█│

Teddy was slouching in the chair as detective booth started talking, he was stoned which meant he was willing to cooperate and was more likely to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Teddy wasn’t one to sugarcoat anything and he had no problems with expressing how he truly felt about Morgan and her death... it had been a year but it felt like yesterday... his secret stays the same and he really does not know or have any idea where he was the night of her being murdered.

Hello, Mr THEODORE GRAYSON. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name. A: Thedore Grayson but everybody calls me Teddy

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age. A: july 18th 1996 and twenty three almost twenty four Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story. A: teddy grew up in Michigan with his mom and dad. he had a pretty normal childhood, his dad expected a lot out of him and he rebelled hard core in high school. when it came to college he knew that he wanted to move out of the state. when he found hyland he didn’t think he was going to get in, when he did he knew it was the school for him. he has three sisters and one brother. he is the oldest and very close with his family. “Why does my family and home life have to deal with morgan dying”

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts. A: My boys, my squad and friends... family obviously... people... Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals? A: to graduate college, get a job... not being a fuck up would help me reach my goals probably but who has time for that right?

Q: How would you describe yourself? A: decent human being. *laughs*

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University? A: i’m in a fraternity and play baseball... partying and hanging with friends is fun

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid. A: yup, yeah, maybe... why does this have to do with anything?

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between. A: i mean a couple of my best friends slept with her, i guess i'm really close friends with Bridget i think they got along... dominique and i were fairly close... i guess she was always just somehow roped up into my life somehow by somebody... girl was everywhere and in everybody

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst? A: best thing, probably being a big brother.. worst blacking out the night of morgan’s death

Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie? A: tell the truth, i don’t sugar coat anything

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? A: no but she had it coming, everybody couldn’t stand her *rolls eyes*

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish? A: i guess you could say we were ‘friends’ but that didn’t last long, girls crazy.

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic? A: i guess you could call it frenemies, didn’t care for her if i’m being honest

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me. A: dead to me... *coughs dramatically*

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish? A: isn’t everybody's life worse?

Q: What was your favorite thing about her? A: she had hot friends

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her? A: manipulative and selfish

Q: Where were you the night of her murder? A: *shrugs* a party?

Q: Where were you the day before? A: at school and at a friends dorm room

Q: Where were you after? A: at the frat house with sawyer, jack and emma

Q: How did you feel about her passing? A: i guess it didn’t surprise me

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot. A: karma’s a bitch isn’t it...

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m- A: nah i don’t use social media and wasn’t close enough to do a tribute to her

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died? A: a party... and my dorm... what else do you want from me? *sighs* Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night. A: nothing that has to do with morgan Q: Were you intoxicated at any point? A: wasn’t everybody... Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story? A: yup! i checked into the fraternity and my friends signed them in as guests Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night. A: *studders and stops* “I was at a party with some friends, it was a great night“ that i remember Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false. A: i don’t have to prove anything... hope you get more information with the other six students Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan? A: stop being a bitch *laughs* guess that wasn’t the best thing to tell an almost dead girl Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before? A: almost, reid and aleks a stopped me.. bitch was blackmailing my friends again Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan? A: isn’t that all we ever did? Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan? A: there’s nothing safe about that girl Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan? A: life would be simple if i hadn’t met her Q: Do you own a gun? A: nope Q: Have you handled a gun before? A: nope don’t mess with that kind of stuff Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun? A: nope Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before? A: i’ve had my fare share of fights Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death? A: sawyer, jack and emma, they were all at my place Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die? A: i wouldn’t use the word deserve.... Q: Do you wish she was still alive? A: doesn’t make much of a difference

Q: Do you miss her? A: *laughs* in all do respect, does anybody? Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death? A: the same, she didn’t really phase me too much Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you? A: God no! Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me? A: nope i don’t really need to hide anything Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time? A: yup, you got anything else sir? Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? A: nope and i don’t know who did

[rcsiehart-blog]

what’s up,  babes!!  i’m rachel,  but you can call me rae  ♡  i’m hella out of practice with group rp’s so i hope you’ll excuse any rough edges while i get back into the swing of things.  but i’m excited to be here and hope you’ll love me and my lil’ star,  rosie!  unfortunately i won’t be around for opening since i’m gonna be out tonight and busy a lot of the day,  but feel free to jump in my ims and we can talk plot-y things!!

「  bridget satterlee; cis female; she/her; pansexual  」  ❛ ✦ ﾟ*・ﾟ  ROSIE HART  is a  21 year old   THEATRE MAJOR   in their   SOPHOMORE   year.   It has been stated that they are +SPONTANEOUS   &&   +CHARMING,   but they can also be   -CLUMSY   &&   -THOUGHTLESS.   they happen to be into  ROUGH SEX   &&   ORAL,   but won’t do   SCAT   &&   HUMILIATION. ❜ 「  rachel; 24; pst; she/her  」

+     her father ditched when she was about eight yrs old.  he never really wanted to be a father and husband,  so it’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did. rosie always tried to get close to her father,  and maybe there were a few moments here and they where they had a nice day out at the movies or picking up mcdonald’s and watching cartoons together, but ultimately that wasn’t enough that he wanted to be there. 

+     rosie’s mother struggled with substance abuse even before having her.  her parents weren’t even out of high school when they had her.  because of her mother’s struggles,  rosie had to take care of herself a lot. she and her mother were never close,  though there’s not exactly bad blood between them either.  life at home was simply a lot of existing in the same space.

+     got into theatre in middle school by chance.  she skipped a history class early on in the year,  and when she tried to head for her spanish class,  she accidentally walked into the neighboring drama room.  rosie managed to stay about half the class before they realized she wasn’t supposed to be there,  but by then,  it was done.  she so saw how much fun the community was in that classroom,  and she wanted to be part of it.

+     unfortunately,  a lot of the fellow drama kids there got into a lot of ill advised activities after school.  a lot of them drank a lot and partied,  and between that and the bad influence of her mother,  rosie quickly spiraled down that path,  too. 

+     rosie struggled heavily with commitment,  impulse control,  etc.  sometimes she’d get into her mother’s stashes to bring back to her friends so they could have a good time.  despite that,  drama class was the one area where she thrived.  she auditioned for all the school plays and musicals, getting into just about all of them.  if she didn’t, rosie took up a tech part.  and kicking back and watching old musicals and shows  ( as well as a lot of bootlegs ),  did help keep her out of some trouble. 

+     originally started college in her hometown of dayton, ohio,  but dropped out relatively quick.  she just couldn’t stand living in her crappy town anymore.  rosie’s interests gave her bigger dreams.  she wanted a more glamorous life,  and she couldn’t get it by going to school in her hometown. 

+     rosie took a year off to work and save up for something better.  though she wanted to attend a good performing arts school in new york,  the costs simply weren’t realistic.  so rosie set her sights on sunshine university in florida.  florida seemed more lax and wild to accompany her free spirited personality,  and while no college is cheap,  the fees weren’t as ridiculous as in new york.  it seemed like a start to get out of her hometown.  so she went for it. 

+     nevertheless,  rosie’s has kept her tendency to live too loose.  her mind is still barely focused on classes outside theatre,  putting in just enough effort to get by.  she drinks too much.  smokes.  sleeps around.  in all honesty,  she barely has the money to be attending,  either,  and it’s only a few surprise checks from her father  ( who evidently found decent success after leaving his family )  that keep her just stable enough to get by.

+     likes to sleep around a lot because it’s something that’s almost always guaranteed to get her attention.  due to her childhood,  rosie grew up low on it and craves it now.  she’s not against buttering people up,  having a one night stand,  and acting like it’s nothing afterward.  whether there are repeats depends on the person,  but rosie’s never been one for long term relationships.  the way rosie sees it,  she plans on making it big one day anyway,  so it’s not like she’ll be able to keep up with old relationships anyway.  maybe deep down she’d like something deeper,  but she’ll never admit that to anyone,  even herself.

+     not really picky with who she seeks affection from,  but she does have an unconscious tendency to go for those older than her.  not that she’s against or won’t get with anyone her age,  it’s just where she’s drawn.  also really has no gender preference. 

+     has super luxurious tastes and would never say no to a sugar-anything.  buy her things and fuck her hard and you’ve got her heart honestly.