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nish-s-random-writing · 7 years ago

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*looks around* Could I get some fluffy FRUKUS on Christmas morning??? Please?? If not, then I'm perfectly fine with getting UKUS

a/n: I’ve had so much fun writing this! Thanks for the request~

WARNINGS: France x UK x US, polyamorous relationship, implied sexual themes, overwhelming sappity-sap-sap, christmas fluff is christmas fluff

Waking Up to You (FRUKUS Christmas one-shot)

There was a certain comfortable haze to waking up in theearly morning.

No, not the type where one is blasted in the ear by ablaring alarm for work, nor the type where one crawls out of bed all lazy andsluggish on weekend mornings. No, this was the well-rested,eight-hours-of-sleep, wrapped-up-in-warmth type of waking up. It was Alfred’sabsolute favorite.

Coming to consciousness but not quite opening his eyes yet,Alfred was well aware of the cool December air around his bare legs, but at thesame time, the nice, radiating warmth that wrapped around his shoulder andpressed against his side.

He tucked his legs into the comforter he knew he was underand snuggled further into the comfortable warm mass. His hands began to slowlyroam, touching broad skin and soon, smooth, silky strands.

Ah, that would be Francis.

America smiled quietly to himself, letting out a low hum ashe let his hands explore. The Frenchman was still asleep, but he knew he couldthread his fingers through those golden curls all day long if he wanted. Aftera while of letting his hands drift around the familiar skin, his mind wasalerted to the missing presence of another warm bundle that should’ve beenbehind him.

Alfred threw his arm back and frowned at the lack of contactwith anything that wasn’t cold bed. He let his hand creep forward, past Franciswho was now slowly stirring, and was disappointed to find no one on the otherside either.

This was where he opened his eyes and lifted his head. Asexpected, he was greeted with the adorable sight of half-asleep Francis, butwith no England to be found.

“America,” Francis groaned, his voice still scratchy withsleep. “Mon amour, what is wrong?”

In the back of his mind, America felt an important thoughttingling at his consciousness. Something he knew he couldn’t forget. But England’spresence—or lack thereof—was immediately pushed to the forefront of histhoughts and he decided to make his distress evident.

“Where’s Arthur?” He asked, looking up at his Frenchman.

Francis gave him a questioning glance, which was then easilytaken-over by a soft smile. This immediately made Alfred’s nerves quell alittle. “Ah, do you not remember? It’s Christmas, Alfred. Hah, Arthur isprobably up early making preparations, no?”

Alfred sighed, relieved at the satisfactory answer, and buriedhis face into the warmth of his boyfriend’s chest once again. “Heh, yeah, you’reright. Sorry for getting paranoid.” He hummed in contentment, before thethought occurred to him.

“Hey, merry Christmas, Francis.” Alfred said, looking up.

“Merry Christmas to you too, amour.”

And they shared a kiss, quiet and content, both feelingsatisfied yet wishing for the contact of another.

“What do you think Arthur’s up to?” Alfred asked afterpulling away.

“Hmm…probably wrapping up gifts, or perhaps taking some out.Perhaps he has another special-something planned.”

“Better not interrupt him then. Remember last time?”

“Oho! Yes, that was entertaining. Ruining his surprises getshim in an awfully foul mood. Not good for Christmas.”

“Heh, just like his cooking.”

They shared a laugh, then Alfred went quiet.

“I mean… you don’t think he could be cooking, right? Orbaking or something?”

They then shared a look—a panicked one. Their eyes hadwidened in unison and they nodded in agreement, before scrambling out of bed ina naked mess to barrel out the door, into the hallway, and towards the kitchenpraying to god that things wouldn’t be on fire yet.

To their amazement, they were greeted not by a plume ofthick smoke, but by the pleasant scent of gingerbread. Granted, they smelt abit overdone, but not quite horribly burnt yet.

The two rounded the corner, coming into view of the openkitchen doorway. The Christmas tree twinkled merrily behind the sofa whichrested in front of America’s penthouse windows. Opposite the couch were thecoffee table, decorated with a Christmas-embroidered table runner, and the TV hangingon the opposite wall. On the other wall was a slow-burning fireplace, rightnext to the kitchen, and there inside was England, humming merrily to himselfwhile he fixed-up something in a tray on the countertop.

The two astonished nations watched as the smaller Englishmanflipped open the oven and pulled out a tray of what seemed to be well-cookedcookies, judging by the miraculously delectable aroma.

He startled a bit as he looked up, but then settled himselfinto a small smile. “I was wondering when you two were going to wake up.”

America was the first to rush over and examine the cookiesup-close. They were simple round gingerbread cookies, laid neatly on the tray.They looked plain and simple enough, but made up for that in their overwhelmingsmell.

“H-how… England, this smells delicious!” America beamed,plucking one out of the tray and with a small nod of affirmation from the Brit,took a tentative bite. His eyes widened, impossibly blue, then proceeded totake another bite.

Francis was in a little more disbelief. “Angleterre, I loveyou, but what sort of dark magic have you sacrificed your soul to have achievedthis?”

“Bastard! I made them for you,” England sniffed, but he hada small, pleased smile on his face. “I told you I’d learn how to do this right,and ha ha! Here you are! The only thing I’ve sacrificed was a week’s worth ofeveryday cooking lessons at Italy’s place.”

“You sir, are getting quite good at baking,” America said,self-satisfied with taking bite after bite of each cookie.

“Oi, hold your horses,” Arthur said, turning his tray to setdown on the counter. “These are for both of you, but I want to have some too,alright? Now go and set up the living room. We’re spending indoors today.”

“Cuddle on the couch all day long? Just you two and cookies?”America mused, a lazy grin on his face. “I don’t know about you, but Best.Christmas. Ever.”

Francis hummed in agreement. “Ah, yes. Sounds wonderful. Andin addition, this indoor-cuddling might not be the only thing we’ll be doing onthe couch tonight, hmm?”

America snorted at him. “We broke the last couch, and I don’twant to buy a new one. Bed or floor, Francis. No couch.”

“Ah, you broke thelast couch, mi amour. As long as you don’t top, we’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that? Me not topping? You’ll be fine?”America gave France a sly grin.

France was ready to stutter out a reply when Arthur cut himoff. “I’ll buy you a new couch. For now, both of you put on some clothes and we’llstart watching those sitcoms I’m sure Alfred has prepared.”

“Wait, you-“

“Go on or no cookies for either of you!”

Alfred laughed, then pulled in Arthur for a quick kiss. “Alright,merry Christmas, babe.”

Francis let out his own laugh as well and stole his own kissfrom the Englishman. “Oui, I look forward to your cookies.”

And thus, the other two shuffled into the living room,leaving behind a very pleased England setting his cookies neatly into a bowl.This was bound to be a very pleasant Christmas with a very promising start,even if they did end up breaking the couch later that night.

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socialattractionuk · 6 years ago

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The Sex Resort Diaries: Stripping off, sex on the beach, and getting sand in all the wrong places

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Oh, hey. We’re Ellen and Chris, two classic Brits uncomfortable being naked and talking openly about sex stuff.

So when we were offered a holiday to Hedonism II, ‘the sexiest place on earth’, ‘an all-inclusive paradise’, and an ‘iconic adult playground’, we had to say yes.

Hedonism II is, essentially, a sex resort. There are nude beaches, classes on fetishes, and necklaces that declare your sexual interests to other guests.

While we’re here, we’ll be writing daily diary posts about what it’s like at Hedonism II’s Young Swingers Week, culminating in a final article about what we discovered at the end of the week.

Here’s our recap of day two.

Chris

Here’s Chris fully clothed for the final time on this holiday (Picture: Ellen Scott/Metro.co.uk)

Today I pretend to fall asleep on a sun lounger so that a man will stop asking me about the sounds I make when I ejaculate.

Today is also the day we’re split into factions in a sort of horny(ier) Hunger Games. There are three necklace colours – green, red and blue – and then additional coloured beads – white, pink, black, purple – denoting your likes and kinks in plain sight around your neck.

Green is for the open-minded. It is the absolute baseline of comfort for Young Swingers Week, because why else would you go? Red says that you’d be willing to swap partners with the right couple at the right time. Blue simply means you are DTF as much as possible. I opt for green, and breathe a sigh of relief when Ellen does too.

‘I like your tattoos,’ a Red says behind me. In one single glance I know that she’s into BDSM, able to play solo without her partner, willing to get involved in our sex life if we can impress her, and her name – also spelt out in beads.

The whole system is very efficient and I wish it could translate into real life.

‘Can my mate join us at the pub?�� Rather not, as I can see Pete’s a Millwall-supporting Scorpio who voted Brexit and doesn’t get the round in. Nice try.

Today is the day I get naked in public for the first time. The resort and beaches are split into a self-proclaimed prude side and nude side, but I can see the prude side tumbleweeds blowing across the shore from my room window. We head there first but soon realise the error of our ways.

Plus, I’m here to do things the Hedo way. Balls-in here means balls out.

I’ve lived a sheltered life sheltering my penis in gyms, saunas and almost every single room or function I’ve ever entered. I’d assumed that being stark naked in front of everyone would carry the same humiliation as being pantsed in PE but I’d assumed very, very wrong.

It was anti-climactic once my swimming trunks left my ankles but it’s been difficult to revert back to clothed life.

I am a nudist now. Don’t mind my wang, just getting the piña coladas in. Yes, I’m really enjoying these nachos – how can you tell?

Ellen

Genuine question: Why did I pack so many outfits for this trip? (Picture: Ellen Scott/Metro.co.uk)

It takes us a while to realise we’ve fully stripped off on the prude side of the beach. It’s the lack of people and the closed bar that gives it away.

We return our bodies to swimsuits and cover-ups, then make the long stroll across the threshold.

There are signs every few paces warning us that we must take off our clothes, reminding us that this is a nude beach and thus we will see people who are nude, and scolding us for daring to bring a phone in our Young Swingers Week branded backpacks (no photography allowed).

The difference is stark. Everyone’s naked. Music blares from the pool where entertainers are instructing women to twerk and judging which man has the best hat.

It turns out that once you strip clothes away, all our awkward social boundaries get chucked away with them. Strangers wish us good morning, compliment my hair, ask us how we’re doing, and for once I don’t have the typical London reaction of ‘what’s wrong with them? Why are they talking to someone they don’t know?’.

We have a chat with a man who compliments our eyes while taking not at all furtive glances at Chris’s penis and my breasts. Yes, that chat does start off strangely, with Chris quizzed on how he would say ‘fuck, I’m coming’ in a British accent, but then we’re talking about Stormzy and the book I’m reading and it’s shockingly easy to forget we’re naked.

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Will Paul, Prue, Sandi and Noel be back for The Great British Bake Off 2019?

Getting in the sea is dreamy, naturally, and it’s so hot that the idea of putting on any clothes is not at all appealing.

Every few hours I poke Chris and ponder how weird this all is. We’re naked. There are couples here who’d quite like to do a switcharound.

But then I’m reading, and drinking a piña colada, and dozing off in the sun, and I can feel any lingering awkwardness melt away.

Oh, look. A cat on the beach! A massive bird with one leg! Fish jumping above the surface!

Oh. Now a couple is having sex on the shore, her on top, thrusting, and splashing.

There’s a lot to see here.

The Sex Resort Diaries will be running all week. You can read day one here, and check back tomorrow to read about us dipping our toe in the literal pool of swinging and group sex.

MORE: Cat lovers, rejoice: You can now buy a pussy themed merkin

MORE: Is it OK to masturbate while in hospital?

MORE: Bisexuality is a building block of my identity but it’s too often fetishised

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cstesttaken · 7 years ago

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Grime Sets Today’s Music Agenda in Britain, and Tomorrow’s

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Stormzy during the V Festival in Chelmsford, England, in August.Credit Samir Hussein/Redferns, via Getty graphics

In The united kingdomt, few musicians have actually an increased profile than the grime celebrity Stormzy: Adele recently recognized him from phase during a performance; he vocally supported the Labour politician Jeremy Corbyn; and it also ended up being national development when a neighbor known as the authorities on him as he ended up being returning to his house in a well-to-do West London area. He makes a cameo on the current season of the tastemaking British TV hit “Chewing Gum” and appears on “Good Goodbye,” a song from the new Linkin Park album, and on an official remix of “Shape of You,” Ed Sheeran’s global pop hit, which the two performed together at the Brit Awards in February, a year after Stormzy publicly criticized the event for its lack of recognition of grime.

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Stormzy, appropriate, and Ed Sheeran within Brit Awards in February.Credit Gareth Cattermole/Getty pictures

That same month, Stormzy revealed “Gang Signs & Prayer,” their first proper studio record after many years of singles and freestyles. Ambitious and musically diverse, it shows a performer who easily navigates several rooms: relentless grime purist, on tracks like “Return of this Rucksack” and “Cold”; contemplative family members guy on “100 Bags”; sensitive pop music hitmaker on “Cigarettes & Cush.” It became initial independently released grime album to top the British record album chart.

Stormzy’s ubiquity and success could very well be more noticeable exemplory instance of how long grime — a hybrid of street-oriented hip-hop and eccentric-but-tough club music certain to The united kingdomt — has come from its origins in the early 2000s. After that, it was the insurgent sound of black childhood in East London — lo-fi, muscular and brittle, saturated in intricate, chaotic raps. With time, it started to birth performers who slipped into Brit pop: Dizzee Rascal, Kano, Tinie Tempah and more. But although specific functions had been thriving, the style all together remained mainly an underground concern, influential but marginalized.

Helping to make just what has happened in the last few years so striking: Grime, in one thing close to its rawest type, is minting movie stars — Stormzy, Skepta and much more — that are achieving the the top of British maps and exerting a global impact while continuing to put on the genre’s de facto uniform, a tracksuit, a rejoinder to the flash of exactly what came before it and exactly what encompasses it, as well as to American hip-hop excess.

The style stays resolutely strenuous, with manufacturing that throbs, chirps, shrieks and thumps, and a passel of razor-sharp younger vocalists who keep its underground vital. However the true measure of grime’s existing victory could be the method by which this has set the table the acceptance of — and perhaps, enhanced possibilities for success for — a whole variety of British music which grime-influenced or grime-adjacent, from U.K. rap to Afrobeats-inflected pop to a revival of U.K. storage and much more. Grime, when a little scene that has been the preserve of pirate radio and clashes where M.C.s fought for supremacy, is sturdy, diverse and extensively acclaimed, and has now become a foundation for a wave of performers looking beyond it.

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At the leading of this cost is J Hus, just who simply introduced his impressive debut album, “Common Sense,” which utilizes grime as a steppingstone for a sound this is certainly certainly transcontinental, encompassing American hip-hop and West African pop music. J Hus is a cheeky, charming performer just who raps with a lingering, mottled movement. On “Friendly,” that has been a hit a year ago, and closes from brand new album, he’s breezily charismatic, challenging other people and poking fun at himself all in one breath:

Why you don’t routine? You no like cash? Spend cash like we nuh like money She love a ugly man-making pretty money And I’m a ugly man making sexy money

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J Hus, who just circulated their impressive first record, “Common Sense.”Credit Olivia Rose

J Hus comes back often on theme of ugliness, using it as a source of power in a throwback to the way the Notorious B.I.G when performed. On “Common Sense,” he thrives whatever the songs behind him: the tinkling Afrobeats of “Did you notice,” the sinister stomp of “Clartin” if not the earthy jazz-soul of “Closed doorways.” J Hus was adaptable because the beginning of their profession — one of is own very early hits had been “Lean & Bop,” an infectious party track — but on “Common good sense,” he takes ownership of a complete selection of designs, through the lighthearted to the severe. “Good Luck Chale” may be the many moving song of his profession, a morbid story of superstar wariness and self-examination: “i obtained one hundred opps and I also don’t think most of them/Still tryna do me personally so great luck for them.” (The track features the smooth crooning of Tiggs Da creator, who's quickly becoming a Nate Dogg- or Akon-esque figure within the scene.)

This is basically the sound of forward-looking worldwide pop, flexible and wide-ranging, which acknowledges the smooth way music ideas move across edges today. A similar hybrid impulse undergirds “LionHeart,” the first record by the singer and rapper Geko, who is of Libyan and Algerian history. “LionHeart” is sweet pop music songs with a worldwide bent, with inputs from western and North Africa as well as the Caribbean, in addition to The united kingdomt additionally the US.

These records call in your thoughts just how one international star, Drake, has been developing their sound in real time. Whenever there are interesting brand-new hybrids beingshown to people there, often there is Drake, searching for ways to make sure they are his own. He has made his love for grime well-known, openly adopting of Skepta’s Boy Better Know team, down to getting a tattoo associated with logo. Skepta can be showcased on “More Life,” Drake’s current playlist, which nevertheless sits close to the the top of Billboard album chart.

Nevertheless true Brit star start “More lifestyle” belongs to Giggs, which shines with stark, lightly comic verses on two songs, “No Long Talk” and “KMT.” Giggs flirts with grime, it is more of a straight-ahead rapper, as heard on his insistent 2016 record, “Landlord,” a pummeling tough-talk expedition where he raps in violent whispers, virtually in the vein of US minimalists like Roc Marciano and Ka. His phrasing is direct, their storytelling cold-eyed on songs like the harrowing “Only Swervin.”

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Giggs performing on Roundhouse in London in September.Credit Dave J Hogan/Getty Graphics

Drake has also lent a co-sign to the younger rapper Dave by appearing on a remix of his tune “Wanna Understand.” On Dave’s current solitary “Revenge,” he gripes concerning the conundrum: “i acquired love from celebrities in the usa before I got love from men we chilled with within place shop.”

Dave moves effortlessly between grime and rap —“Thiago Silva” is a jumpy, frisky grime number, and Dave is impressively nimble atop the skittish beat. However the more technical their storytelling is, the greater amount of essential Dave becomes, like on “JKYL+HYD,” by which he examines their mental development through the lens of a wayward youth:

Let me tell you ’bout my entire life, I originated in a household of five If I make an effort to inform my tale, swear down you would cry But all you have to know is I’ve lost each man inside my life And thus I destroyed my way It’s like who do you follow whenever your time seems borrowed And your idols gone astray?

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Dave moves effortlessly between grime and rap.Credit Vicky Grout

Grime, which got its begin 10 years . 5 ago given that antidote toward spread of storage, which had end up being the sound of Uk nightlife ostentation, is beginning to spawn its own generation of dissenters and counterpunchers. There is certainly Lady Leshurr, which recently released a fantastic EP, “Mode,” and who sprinkles bits of dancehall and grime into her sprightly hip-hop. You will find Harlem Spartans, difficult rappers who take free inspiration from Chicago’s drill scene. And also storage, as soon as deeply out of fashion compliment of grime’s ascent, is experiencing a small resurgence, as heard in the lush album “UKG,” by the outfit TQD.

But definitely the soundest retort to grime has arrived when you look at the ways that U.K. rap has taken on a feeling and attitude of its own. Before grime, rap in Britain had been usually disappointingly derivative associated with United states original, but grime’s focus on Brit identification has additionally created a path for lots more standard rappers.

Of the, nothing is much more encouraging than Nines, whose recent album “One leg Out” is one of this year’s most incisive in just about any category. Nines is a sober storyteller, rapping with a persistently unimpressed tone, frequently about drug dealing. On “Break Away,” he dryly boasts, “I just left the label xmas party going and digest a pack.”

“One Foot Out” is redolent associated with gritty nyc rap for the mid 1990s — the production is filled with hard-snapping drums cutting through moody arrangements. Unlike grime M.C.s, that are frequently frenetic and jumpy, Nines is composed to the stage of dispassion. He’s returned full circle returning to a time before grime, and he’s in no hurry.

a version of this article appears in print on May 21, 2017, on webpage AR24 of the nyc edition aided by the headline: Still Gritty, much more Worldly.

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Source

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/19/arts/music/grime-stormzy-j-hus-geko-giggs-nines.html

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