#that looks like snakeskin pattern right? i hope it does. the pink and black look is ICONIC idgaf

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE CHARACTER EVER!!!!!

I wanted to draw him in a pretty princess dress so he can be a true 24-Hour Cinderella <3

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 6/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Is this too short?”

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

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

“Were they new?” Tayce asks.

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

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

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

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

A’whora supposes the temperature suits her situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well. A’whora knows why.

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

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

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

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

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

Fleetingly, A’whora hates them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friends, friends, friends.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

“Aurora!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tayce, wh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missed getting me like this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tayce?”

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

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

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

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