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joealwyndaily · 2 years

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Joe Alwyn currently occupies one of the strangest spaces in the greater celebrity matrix. He’s not yet the sort of movie star your parents would recognize at the airport and text you about, nor does he have the box-office draw of a Chalamet or Pattinson, at least not yet. The 31-year-old has been working steadily in film and television since his straight-out-of-British-drama-school debut as the lead in Ang Lee’s 2016 high-def experiment Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk. He racked up a series of well-received supporting roles in big period Oscar dramas and small critically appreciated indies, usually playing a Ken-doll-faced dick (Harriet, Operation Finale, Boy Erased, The Last Letter From Your Lover) or a blushing Brit from a bygone era (The Sense of an Ending, The Favourite, The Souvenir Part II, Mary Queen of Scots). Now, his first lead role since Billy, in Hulu’s second Sally Rooney adaptation, Conversations With Friends, threatens to make him fully Recognizable to Moms.

For a specific and rather substantial subset of the global population, however, Alwyn is not only a household name but a dinner-table centerpiece. To Google him is to stare straight into the stan-culture abyss. Lengthy YouTube videos are dedicated to his rare and rather unremarkable public interactions with his overwhelmingly famous longtime girlfriend — “Taylor Swift turns around to look at her boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and sticks her tongue out at him” — or to the opaque references the two have made to the mere fact of each other’s existence. Breathless lists of “everything Taylor and Joe have said about their private relationship” abound in the Us Weekly universe. Alwyn is left to choose his words and body language wisely or risk their becoming permanent parts of the elaborate Swiftian canon. The man is not simply well-versed in the art of concealment; he is the Criss Angel of conversational dynamics. In interviews, he often demonstrates an ability to politely answer a question while revealing absolutely nothing about himself, sometimes even backtracking mid-answer to negate a benign detail. (From a recent piece in Mr. Porter: “Well, do you like football?” asks the reporter. “Football?” replies Alwyn. “Yeah. Am I allowed to say those kinds of things?”)

Yet he believes he has gotten better at the whole press thing over the years. “I don’t think I don’t enjoy interviews,” he says carefully. “I think I have seemed guarded.” He definitely “would like to not seem so guarded in them.” I can see those contradicting desires roiling inside Alwyn now, sitting across from him on the patio at Fairfax, in the West Village, for lunch. His energy is vaguely uncomfortable but determined, like that of someone preparing to swim laps in the English Channel in January to prove something to themselves. Perhaps sensing he has already revealed too much, he falls back on one of his tried-and-true lines: “If you were to ask a stranger on the street questions about their private life, let alone with the intent to then post it everywhere, why would that person not be like, ‘Sorry, what, why?’ So why would I not be like that?” He points at a woman sitting across the way from us who is, to my knowledge, not on a press tour. “I’m not going to go over there and ask that woman about her personal life.” “Actually, maybe you should,” I suggest. “I mean, I might do later,” he says, now looking cheered. “I’ll just holler across the street.”

Alwyn orders a Guinness (which is not available, so he opts for an IPA) after confirming I will also be drinking. “I’m just clinging on to that Irishness,” he says, referring to the five months he spent filming Conversations With Friends in Belfast. I start with some simple questions — When did he realize he wanted to act? What was he like as a child? “See, these are the questions I find hard,” he says. Was he introverted? Outgoing? Sporty? “I was on the introverted side but not a crippling introvert. Like an extroverted introvert,” he answers. “Is that allowed?”

In small spurts, I learn Alwyn was “not hammy” as a youth — instead, he was the family baby, “displaced” at age 12 by a new sibling, and an athlete who realized what he really wanted was to act. He kept his burning theatrical desires quiet, à la Zac Efron in High School Musical. He admits to an early obsession with Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet and talks joyfully about how he was brought up watching “random French movies” with his documentary-filmmaker father and psychotherapist mother. Occasionally, he broke free from the chains of jockdom and played Banquo in a version of Macbeth performed entirely on Rollerblades, and Snowy the dog in a production of Tintin despite looking exactly like Tintin: “Snowy was more of a stretch.”

Alwyn says he “secretly would look up drama schools online” as a teenager. Once in university, he applied to four and was rejected by all but one. He was yanked out in his last year by Lee, who had fought with the studio to cast an unknown as the naïve, PTSD-ridden Billy Lynn. “It was terrifying and surreal and happened so quickly,” Alwyn remembers. Critics were almost unilaterally derisive of the film, but Alwyn was praised for his naturalism, his believable innocence, and, per one review, a “cuteness roughly akin to that of Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.” Like most things that have happened to Alwyn, that image has proved to be both a boon and a curse. Directors feel they must either play off it directly (place him somewhere in the past when evidently it was more normal to look like that; make him the evil, rich trophy husband to 1960s amnesia victim Shailene Woodley; cast him as Margot Robbie’s devoted, winsome courtier) or subvert it (he looks this way because he is an actual Nazi). Before filming Billy Lynn, Lee had been concerned that Alwyn was “too handsome” to play a run-of-the-mill contemporary dude; ultimately, he decided Alwyn’s face is “so compelling it doesn’t matter.”

The conversation about his looks gets meta in Conversations. In the series, he plays Nick, an emotionally walled-off, married, 30-something actor who begins an affair with a college student and slowly lets his guard down. His character is a classically attractive, heavily restrained man with hidden depths who struggles to be taken seriously while everyone around him says stuff about his face. In one scene, he and his paramour, Frances, are bidding each other farewell after a drawn-out romp when she blurts out, “You’re so handsome.” Nick turns pink. “I thought you were attracted to my personality,” he jokes half-heartedly. “Do you even have one?” replies Frances, who then looks equally humiliated. Alwyn begins mock-pulling at his cheeks and widening his eyes at any talk of said face. “Two eyes, one nose, one mouth,” he says. “I don’t know what to say.” But did he relate to that moment with Nick and Frances? “It’s not something I wrestled with,” he says, studying me as he spoons up some steak tartare. He tenses a bit. “What are you trying to get me to say about my face?” I explain that I have no specific face-related agenda, and he visibly relaxes. “No, sorry, I’m sure,” he says. “I would much rather work with an interesting director in a smaller, weirder, darker part, than something big and obvious and getting typecast just for the sake of it.”

COVID had messed up his plans to star in an “Emily Brontë origin story,” so he put himself on tape for Conversations director Lenny Abrahamson one weekend at an unnamed friend’s “beautiful, immaculate” house. Thinking he needed to look older than his three decades to play the mid-30s Nick, he went upstairs to find a jacket from his friend’s “older husband,” where he found a paperback copy of Conversations With Friends lying on the bedroom floor. He got the part a week later. “I’m not superstitious,” he adds, before spending the next five minutes discussing the things he actually is superstitious about — namely, and randomly, magpies. (“If I see one, I’m like, ‘Oh, shit,’” he says, whipping out his phone to show me a photo of a magpie, appearing genuinely thrilled to be talking about this.)

Alwyn’s performance in Conversations is his best yet. He’s convincing as a sensitive, depressive guy who desperately wants to open up to someone but doesn’t quite know if it’s safe to do so. The role is bold. There are more sex scenes per capita in this series than anything he has ever done, scenes of the caliber and intimacy that turned Paul Mescal, the previously unknown star of Hulu’s first Rooney adaptation, Normal People, into an icon of early-pandemic-era sensuality. “When they sent the audition, they said, just as a heads up, that it would be to sign up for the possibility of full frontal,” Alwyn says, though he ended up going tush-only. Is he prepared to be the subject of a new type of public frenzy? “To be honest, I forget that other people will see it.”

In the summer of 2020, Swift surprise-released the Grammy-winning album Folklore. Fans speculated endlessly about the identity of William Bowery, a mysterious co-writer on two songs. That November, Swift revealed that Bowery was in fact Alwyn and that the pair had taken up songwriting together in quarantine. I assume Alwyn will give me one of his speak-arounds on the subject. Instead, he leans forward, putting his English Channel–swimming face back on. “What would you like to know?”

Although he grew up playing a bit of piano and was the guitarist in a “crappy school band called Anger Management,” Alwyn doesn’t consider himself a musician or songwriter and insists that he is, in fact, an awful singer. He was merely “messing around” on the piano when Swift heard and walked over, intrigued. He had been singing the fully formed first verse to the song that became “Exile.” (Bon Iver handles the male vocals on the final version.) “It was completely off the cuff, an accident,” he says, shrugging. “She said, ‘Can we try and sit down and get to the end together?’ And so we did. It was as basic as some people made sourdough.”

I press him on this point — he wrote an entire verse to a Taylor Swift song without trying? “Who doesn’t walk around the house singing?” he asks. I explain that it’s unusual for hit songs to spring forth like that from nonmusicians’ heads. He says he wasn’t trying to write to Swift’s personal sound but had been listening to a lot of the National (Aaron Dessner ended up producing the album). Alwyn wrote the chorus for “Betty” just as casually, albeit less soberly: “I’d probably had a drink and was just stumbling around the house. We couldn’t decide on a film to watch that night, and she was like, ‘Do you want to try and finish writing that song you were singing earlier?’ And so we got a guitar and did that.”

Initially, Alwyn didn’t want his name credited, anticipating that what he describes as the “clickbait conversation” would distract people from actually listening to the music. So he went by William Bowery as a nod to his music-composer great-grandfather and the Manhattan street. But then he recognized the “clickbait conversation” was happening anyway — “I don’t say that vainly,” he adds quickly — so why not let the world know it was him? He stresses his blissful ignorance of, say, those videos dissecting his relationship with Swift: “I’m aware of those when people tell me in these situations.” It seems like a healthy, practiced denial; he has worked at tuning this shit out because otherwise he might never utter a single syllable again. And despite having a face that launched a thousand Swift songs, at certain angles in his normal-boy outfit, he does have a certain ability to blend. None of the other 30-somethings lunching at Fairfax seem to have any clue who he is. “I suppose it’s not as if you’re Jennifer Lopez,” I joke. “I beg to differ,” he shoots back with a laugh. “I am Jennifer Lopez.” I start to warm to Alwyn. He knows that what he wants (privacy) and what he has to do (publicity) are fundamentally at odds and has embraced that contradiction with dry, charming wit.

We’ve finished our food, which means the moment we’ve both been dreading can no longer be avoided. “You have things you have to ask,” says Alwyn, folding his hands together. “And I’ll either choose to answer or not.” I look him gamely in the face and ask if he is, indeed, betrothed to marry one Taylor Alison Swift. He exhales. “The truth is,” he begins, “if I had a pound coin for every time someone told me I’ve been engaged or I’m getting engaged, I would have a lot of pound coins. If the answer was yes, I wouldn’t say. If the answer is no, I wouldn’t say.” I’m struck briefly speechless. It is perhaps the best non-answer I have ever received. I ask him how often he’s practiced it, and he explains that recently, back home in the U.K., a journalist had tried to sneakily phrase the engagement as a statement rather than a question. “You’re not the first person to ask,” he says. His tone conveys that he understands I will also not be the last.

Before I release Alwyn back into the wild, I ask why, in one of his rare forays into celebrity endorsement — a perfectly confusing Tom Ford perfume commercial — he appears physically appalled by the sight of his own neck in the mirror as he sprays himself with the scent. “How dare you!” he says, laughing, looking both offended and delighted. “If that’s not how everyone puts perfume on themselves, then I’ve been lied to.” He suddenly remembers his professional obligations: “Tom Ford’s amazing as a person.” He stands up and bids me a polite farewell. Walking solo toward Tribeca, he is instantly snapped by the paparazzi.

#joe alwyn #interview #vulture

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wolfpants · 2 years

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RANDOM ASKS TO SAVE U FROM BOREDOM

If I went to visit you in Scotland, what would we do?

What's your mental happy place?

First thing you'd do if you won the lottery.

Go go go!

M!!! Oh my goodness, hello to you

And thank you for this!

If I went to visit you in Scotland, what would we do?

Oh ho ho! I love this question! Okay. I live on the east coast, so, first of all, I'd like to show off Edinburgh to you. I'd take you to Dean Village, which is like a fairytale land, and we'd walk through Stockbridge and the Botanics, which is probably my favourite place in all of Edinburgh (it also serves good cake and has a bangin' gift shop). Of course, we'd have to visit the Old Town too, where we can peep in all of the splendid and ancient nooks and crannies and I can nerd out and give you my own special Historic Tour (if you like hearing about things like the black death, etc, Wolf Tours are kind of hardcore):

Obviously we'd have to go to the Castle, and learn about where George R.R. Martin got his inspo for the Red Wedding:

From here we could go up the coast a bit, see the three bridges in South Queensferry and get ice cream and hop on a boat tour to spot seals and/or dolphins (to temper the intensity of Wolf's Bloody Tours):

Then maybe we could go to Linlithgow Palace, where Mary Queen of Scots was born, and I can tell you some more nerdy/ghostly history:

And then we'd go for beer. If you like beer, that is.

What's your mental happy place?

Ooh. Good question. Either when I'm reading something really emotionally arresting or when I'm in the swing of my own writing. I get so much pleasure out of creating worlds and words, and sharing them, and I can't believe I've only been doing it for a year. I feel like I've been missing out massively, but I'm so grateful to be in it now. Besides all that, my mental happy place is also spending time with loved ones. And the first cold sip of a pint.

First thing you'd do if you won the lottery.

Get a lawyer to tell me what to do, because I honestly would have no clue! I think I'd want them to help me divide it up between friends and family, what to invest in, what charities to donate to, all that sort of stuff. Otherwise I might just end up buying something ridiculous. I'd also like to leave my job and start up a foundation/printing press for fandom writers who want to publish original work but don't know where to start.

Ask game! Ask me something, anything!

#ask #ask game

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coraofwales · 5 years

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How the royals gave Harry and Meghan everything they wanted - but they still wanted more

Camilla Tominey

9 JANUARY 2020 • 9:00 PM

It was the outburst that first put Prince Harry at odds with his grandmother over the way he and his wife intended to run their royal lives.

Telling one of the Queen’s most senior aides: “What Meghan wants, Meghan gets”, in the run up to their Windsor wedding in May 2018, the ill-tempered comment is understood to have prompted a rare rebuke from the 93-year-old monarch.

Yet ever since that glittering ceremony at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, the royals have been uncharacteristically accommodating of the Duke and Duchess of Sussexes’ demands - which makes their decision to step down as senior royals without consultation all the more baffling.

It started before the couple had even got married when the Queen broke with royal tradition to invite American divorcee Meghan to spend Christmas at Sandringham in 2017, even though she was only engaged to Harry at the time.

Recognising that the former Suits star had not just moved to the UK but also given up her blossoming acting career to marry into the Firm, the royals bent over backwards to make Meghan feel as welcome as possible - as did the British public.

The Cambridges even allowed the lovestruck pair to stay at Anmer Hall, their private bolthole on the royal estate in Norfolk and the ‘Fab Four’ were famously captured by amateur photographer Karen Anvil walking arm in arm to St Mary Magdalene Church on Christmas morning.

When their big day arrived, Harry and Meghan got the multicultural service they craved, the carriage procession and the star-studded reception, away from the prying eyes of the world’s media.

When cracks started appearing in their relationship with the Cambridges amid rumours of a rift between the royal brothers - and a tearful incident between the sisters in law at a bridesmaids dress fitting for Princess Charlotte - efforts were made behind the scenes to patch things up.

The Duchesses put on a united front in the Royal Box at Wimbledon a couple of months later, and the Sussexes agreed to spend a second Christmas at Sandringham - albeit staying at the ‘big’ house rather than Anmer Hall.

Credit: Ben Curtis /AP

Soon after it was announced that the royal household shared by the brothers at Kensington Palace was to split, a move engendered by Harry and Meghan amid fears they were being overshadowed by the Cambridges and their growing brood.

Moves to renovate a larger apartment for the couple at the royal residence synonymous with Diana, the late Princess of Wales, were abandoned and £2.4 million of taxpayers' cash was instead ploughed into the refurbishment of Grade II listed Frogmore Cottage in Windsor.

Although the Queen and Prince Charles denied the couple the chance to set up their own ‘court’ in Windsor, preferring instead for them to be kept under the auspices of Buckingham Palace, their wish to set up their own charitable foundation was granted - as well as their own Sussex Royal Instagram page and social media platform.

And when their son Archie was born in May 2019, the Queen agreed that the newborn should not have a royal title but inherit the family surname Mountbatten-Windsor.

They were allowed to keep the location of the birth secret (until it was later revealed on the royal baby’s birth certificate) as well as breaking with royal protocol by also keeping the identity of his godparents under wraps.

And when it came to their first royal tour as a family - following a hugely successful visit to Australia in 2018 - the Sussexes were permitted to take Archie to Harry’s beloved Africa last autumn.

Almost everything that Meghan (and Harry) wanted, they got. And yet it still didn’t seem to be enough. Giving an interview to ITV’s Tom Bradby during the African tour, Meghan hinted at a lack of support from her royal relatives, tearfully declaring: “Not many people have asked if I’m ok.”

Harry later issued a statement attacking the press for “bullying” Meghan - without the prior knowledge of the Queen or her successors in a growing sign of what was to come.

According to one former aide: “They always wanted autonomy and saw it as a huge disadvantage to be in with all the others at Buckingham Palace. They think the world is against them. Harry has always complained about being sidelined by William”.

But in wanting the cake and eat it scenario of being “financially independent, while continuing to fully support Her Majesty The Queen,” the couple now appear to have issued a demand too far.

With both Buckingham Palace and Clarence House pushing back on the idea of them continuing to hold onto their royal titles and receive money from the Duchy of Cornwall while ‘stepping back’ as senior royals, the couple has never looked more isolated.

And not just from their nearest and dearest but their own advisers. Their PR chief Sara Latham now appears to be playing second fiddle to US based master of the dart arts Ken Sunshine, David Beckham’s former publicist Izzy May and talent agent Nick Collins - all of whom now appear a part of the Sussexes’ inner circle amid claims royal aides have been “frozen out”.

“The couple have been ignoring the advice of their palace staff,” revealed an insider.

A power vacuum following the sudden departure of the Queen’s former private secretary Sir Christopher Geidt in 2017 has not helped matters. Some have suggested that Harry and Meghan have capitalised on the absence of the highly respected former Scots Guard, reportedly forced out by Prince Charles and the Duke of York, who “ran a very tight ship”. With the Queen turning 94 in April and the Duke of Edinburgh, 98, now retired from public life and recently in ill health, the “Sussex situation” appears to have lacked proper management.

The complex relationship between Harry, William and Charles - which was tested heavily during the commemorations to mark the 20th anniversary of Diana’s death in 2017 - has made it difficult for both father and brother to assert their authority, with William’s attempts only serving to further drive a wedge. (The heir and second in line to the throne are only mentioned twice on the Sussexes's revamped website).

As Bradby, who knows both couples well, mused in the aftermath of Wednesday’s shock statement: “With families, we all know stuff happens, things are said.

“And also a family dispute within a family firm - you are working in a big family firm, everyone has their wishes and desires and ambitions and they have to be balanced up - and it’s very hard.”

Or as that understated and rather curt Buckingham Palace response put it: “These are complicated issues”.

The simple truth is, in giving them what they wanted, the royals only succeeded in leaving Harry and Meghan wanting more.

@anonymoushouseplantfan

@the-charlatan-duchess

@the-best-soap-opera-ever

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jimmysea · 6 years

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SAOIRSE RONAN photographed by Victoria Will during "Mary Queen of Scots" press tour

#saoirse ronan #sronanedit #userbrenna #userrobin #brethtakingqueens #marigif

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sersh · 6 years

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Saoirse Ronan photographed by Victoria Will during her press tour for “Mary, Queen of Scots” in New York, December 18th 2018

#saoirse ronan #sronanedit #saoirseronandaily #flawlessbeautyqueens #wlwedit #saoirseedit #oh my gosh the floral suit #actoredit #my edit #100 #250 #500 #1k

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irishxseahorse · 6 years

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Last night really felt like we were bringing Mary home to be fully appreciated as the woman she was, not to be just painted as a villain to English history anymore. Every woman, not just in history, deserves that closer look through the lens; to not be defined as this one thing for all eternity for the easement of society, but to be at least respected as a beautifully whole woman. The Scots in general just had the most robust reception of our version of her story. Partying with them in the one castle she felt was her shelter in her rocky life was the perfect crescendo to a lovely personal weekend where I saw my best friend become this beautiful bride and the overall press tour for the film to end. Now I plan on further making the Queen proud this week by sneaking off to a smaller castle and surrounding myself by Scottish fun and love. I don’t know what the word is for a Scottish-phile but yeh that is me. They have the best of it all up here, I am telling ya.

#hwlandstart

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stylestream · 6 years

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Margot Robbie | Rodarte Spring 2019 gown | Mary Queen of Scots London Premiere | 2018

#pc: harpersbazaar #margot robbie #rodarte #rodarte spring 2019 #premiere #2018 #mary queen of scots press tour

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ts1989fanatic · 5 years

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Taylor Swift Thinks We Need to Stop Asking Women When They’re Going to Have Children

And we *strongly* agree

BY MICHELLE BILODEAU

MAY 27,

hoto: Getty Images)

T.Swift doesn’t want to talk about her future hypothetical children, and frankly, we’re here for it.

The “Me” singer just politely declined to answer whether or not she wanted to start a family, telling German outlet RTL, “I really do not think men are asked that question when they turn 30. So I’m not going to answer that now.”

Excuse us while we applaud. In case anyone needs a reminder, it’s incredibly inappropriate to ask a woman when she’s going to get pregnant, for all sorts of reasons. What if she just doesn’t want kids? What if she can’t have kids? And most importantly, what if it’s just not anyone’s dang business? It’s 2019 and, as Swift so deftly pointed out, this line of questioning should be irrelevant. *Men* are very rarely asked when they’re going to have children or what’s it’s like to be a working dad. And if it’s a question that wouldn’t be posed to a man in the same scenario, consider it inconsequential.

But this question doesn’t only highlight society’s innate sexism, it also whiffs of racism. Are media outlets repeatedly asking these same questions of women of colour? We obviously don’t want to put an undue burden on WOC, but the fact that white women get asked this question so much more often than they do seems to indicate that motherhood is seen as an important part of only white womanhood.

And that’s why we’re applauding this tactic by the soon-to-be 30-year-old. Because, sadly, her fellow celebs haven’t always felt like they could truly speak their mind. Jennifer Aniston has had to answer this question ad nauseam through out her career (even still!), and often had a hard time saying outright whether or not she wanted children, something that likely has a lot to do with old-fashioned social norms. As recent as this past winter, the Friends star told Elle, “Who knows what the future holds in terms of a child and a partnership—how that child comes in or doesn’t? And now with the science and miracles, we can do things at different times than we used to be able to.” But why should she have to answer this question at all?

Okay, we do know why. Americans, and to a lesser degree Canadians, can be practically evangelical about women bearing children (see: the abortion debate, both south of the border and closer to home). And it’s not all anti-woman rhetoric; even super progressive North Americans have internalized the idea that a woman’s ultimate achievement is getting married and having kids—as a mother of one who was unsure about having kids when I was younger, I still have to stop myself from going down this rabbit hole when talking to a group of girlfriends who all adamantly Do. Not. Want. Children. (Of course, we are also judged if we have kids “too young” or have “too many kids.” We really can’t win.)

But maybe things are changing. Helen Mirren, Betty White, Aisha Tyler, Cameron Diaz, Chelsea Handler and Tracee Ellis Ross have all talked about their lack of desire for children. And Margot Robbie recently contended with the procreation question during the press tour for Mary Queen of Scots, and she had a similar outlook to Swift. “I got married and the first question in almost every interview is ‘Babies? When are you having one?’” Robbie told Radio Times in January 2019. “I’m so angry that there’s this social contract. You’re married, now have a baby. Don’t presume. I’ll do what I’m going to do.”

But something about Swift’s rebuttal feels particularly of the moment. Maybe it’s that she is currently seen as America’s sweetheart, a role that comes with certain strict expectations—i.e. she is under pressure to seem virginal, but also sexy, have a sweet-as-pie demeanour, and (of course) stick to hetero relationships. And when America’s Sweetheart so succinctly puts a reporter in their place on this topic *and* it goes viral, it’s not just a rejection of sexist ideals, it’s (hopefully) a sign that things are changing.

This isn’t the first time Swift has flexed her political power. Though she has avoided talking about politics for most of her career, in October 2018, the pop star posted her first politically-tinged pic, an Instagram post about voting that, according to Buzzfeed, actually caused a spike in voter registration in the U.S.—to the tune of over 600,000 people. And she’s owning it, recently telling Elle, “I definitely think there are political undertones in the new music I made… I’m not planning to stop encouraging young people to vote and to try to get them to talk about what’s going on in our country. I think that’s one of the most important things I could do.” It’s clear that someone of her stature can make a difference.

But in the meantime, she can go on living her life, traveling through Europe with her beau Joe Alwyn, promoting her soon-to-come album, minding her own business and her own womb.

ts1989fanatic 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

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blankdblank · 6 years

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Wanted, Mr Sniffles

deepestfirefun

You are Richard´s roommate as you have just moved into New York and saw an advertisement where someone was looking for a roommate, weirdly enough, it was Richard who let his agent do the scanning of the people who phoned on the number that was under the advertisement. You seemed to have all the qualities that they were looking for, ( had a steady job, was willing to sign a contract where absolute professional confidentiality about your roommate was demanded ) it sounded very odd to you at first but when it was explained that the person who was looking for a roommate, their profession was acting you understood it and signed. The shock of your life when you first were introduced to your roommate, Richard Crispin Armitage.

But it didn´t take long for you two hit it off and became fast friends, although you had a quite the crush on him you keep it to yourself, or so you thought since you had quite forgotten that body language was Richard´s strong suit as he was a bloody actor. So he noticed that but as the perfect gentleman he is, doesn´t say anything, instead he starts to give you these little endearment pet names, gestures, light caresses that should tell you he was alright with the fact that you were falling in love with him as he was falling for you, slowly but steadily. Until one day after you come back home from work, you were upset wanting to cry and just craved for some cuddles and without even thinking what you are doing, you go straight to Richard´s lap snuggling right under his chin and that makes Richard the happiest man on earth at that moment.

- Some self doubts. Add in some bits to add some drama for the pair.

This is just pt 1. :D

Tags -

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @admirationofarmitage, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @c-s-stars, @abiwim, @deepestfirefun

...

Brutal. In one word Richard’s last trip out to film in New Zealand. The first film was wrapped, in a sense, and he was finally home again. The large house sat empty for months with only his relatives to drop by and run the tap, flush a couple toilets, slam a few doors, he really didn’t care. He loved having his privacy but in the months away he truly regretted owning a home of his own, it merely seemed wasteful. A single offer from his agent had come as a timid resolution to his problem however, one he would no doubt at least give a shot to. A roommate, for the most part there was an attached mother in law cottage, will full kitchen, only sharing the main sitting room and the laundry with the main house allowing both parties their privacy. With another event coming up Richard relaxed all he could before having to leave again allowing his agent to handle this.

…

A sharp gasp left you as the second ring on your phone sounded, with furrowed brows you slid the edge of your fingers between your lips in a failed attempt to ease the pain in your finger from its press against the kettle you were moving to an empty burner as a deep croon sounded out. “Hello?”

Without reason you grinned widely brushing your hair behind your ear saying, “Morning. I um, I got your number about the rental ad?”

Unknown to you a grin sounded through the phone as your familiar voice came through the line, “Yes, might I ask your name?”

“Y/n.”

“My name is Troy, I’m actually handling this matter for my client. You wouldn’t mind meeting up for an interview?”

“Um, sure. When would you want to meet up?”

“Are you free today? I’ll be in London for a few hours, we could meet up for a cup? Around noon good?”

“Yes,” your eyes darted to the clock along the wall as your mind reeled to the set of busses and subway stop you would have to take, “Where are we meeting up?”

With numbers traded you finished your tea, showered and filled your purse you shouldered over your loose cardigan swaying around your t shirt and jeans after hopping your way into your worn sneakers instead of forcing your aching feet into even your most comfortable heels. Three busses and a subway stop later you hopped your way up the steps and trotted through the crowds to the café on the corner you entered and claimed a seat in after placing your order at the counter.

Not long after a tall blonde walked through the door with a stern expression on his face looking over the room until he spotted you alone sipping on your tea. One glance over you and your pitifully drooping ponytail you set your mug down to tighten back up to its former high resting spot. As he neared the table your eyes rose to meet his asking cheerfully, “Troy?”

He nodded and lowered into the seat across from you accepting your hand shake, “Thank you for meeting me. I know it was short notice.”

You shrugged through a weak giggle, “I’ve worked with worse timelines.”

A smirk eased across his lips as he leaned forward asking, “You won’t mind answering some questions now?” Your head shook and he drew out a small notebook and a pen to take notes under a set list of questions. “First, I have to ask if you’re employed.”

You nodded, “Yes,” after another weak giggle your hand folded around your mug, “I’ve been told too employed on occasion.” His brow rose as you claimed a sip of your tea, after which you lowered it to add, “I work in set and prop design,” making his brow rise at the common ground you and Richard held already, “Also a few months out of the year I fly out to the States to record some audio books, and I also do a few voices on an animated show out here.”

“Which sets have you worked on?”

“Mostly period pieces. My first one was assisting on North and South.” The arch in his brow inched higher, “It was just a few fetching things, I’d just gotten out of uni, then after it was a few small for tv ones, then a steady bit on Being Human, until I got roped into a few traveling bits on Strike Back. Then started on the Borgias few years back, that just ended, um I actually just signed on for a new one about Mary Queen of Scots and there’s a couple more lined up for the months in between their filming bits that haven’t been guaranteed yet.”

The number of actors he knew of forming Richard’s circle you had possibly already met grew and eased his comfort about you already, “Impressive. And the audio portions, is that for income only, or?”

“Um, I mean, partially, most of it goes in savings really. It started as a favor to my Cousin and they ended up needing a steady worker and it also lets me travel a bit across the pond so, not all bad to add to the purse and schedule at the end of the day.”

He nodded, “Where are you staying now?”

“With my Cousins, two of them are getting married and the lease is up next month.”

“So you’re available to move in quite soon?”

You nodded, “Whenever possible, either soon or I could find a place to crash until, your client, is comfortable with me moving in, if I’m approved that is.”

Your cups were emptied and another was called for to finish the rest of the nearly eight pages of questions that only stirred the smirk on the agent’s face even wider. On his feet again he dropped your hand promising to be in touch after he would do the background check on you and have the answer in a couple days after you had agreed to signing a confidentiality agreement not to share anything about the client in question. Something you didn’t argue with, as it also would cover their not sharing the details you would have on shows before production had closed. Sketches, models and detailed notes weren’t an uncommon thing in your possession and they had been hard to keep hidden from your Cousins in the past adding to your reasons for needing to move.

…

Not three days later you were called out to London again to meet in his office to fill out the paperwork for the confidentiality agreement and the lease before joining you outside to drive you in his car out to the house while your Cousins followed behind in the moving van. Within the hour your things were unpacked in your portion of the house, using the side entrance directly to it before your Cousins left you with the Agent to have a tour of the house after their friend had delivered your car from its repair job in the shop. You weren’t alone for long as another car pulled up in the driveway allowing the tall figure closer to the main entrance with a large suitcase at his side.

The thick wooden door swung open revealing a near heart dropping realization of who you were now living with. Richard Crispen freaking Armitage. Those bright blue eyes of his scanned over you in his entering and motion to close the door behind him, each moment you could see him trying to remember who you were as his Agent had no doubt shared your now confirmed work history. Obviously unsuccessful in that attempt but those eyes of his had locked on a clear reaction you had no success in reigning in. As it stood you were at the moment quite excruciatingly taken from what he had learned from your interview but that did nothing to hinder the clear effect he had on you.

The words of the Agent blurred in his mind as he took in the details of your every motion and unsteady breath while you tried to focus on Troy and not the Brit making a mental inventory of what he stirred from you. A trick he loved taking advantage of, through his long slow career he had learned the art of body language, something that only increased his own decided valuable skills to help in his craft. It certainly didn’t hurt in finding out what his significant others truly felt and refused to share with him. No matter what he settled to respect the boundaries and treat you as a tenant and hopefully a friend should you hit it off, but against his own clear instant attraction to you he would be your friend and only your friend.

Before he could blink a phone call took Troy back on his path to the office for another client allowing you both to have some time alone to learn one another. With brows raised he eyed your quick smile stirring a dry swallow from him, “I know you probably don’t remember me. But honestly you really don’t have any reason to.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, “On North and South I mainly did errands, and on Strike back I got called in to take over just after you got killed off, unfortunately.” A smirk eased onto his face, “Besides, if you had any worries about my sticking to the agreement I’ve had one of your secrets for over a decade now.”

His brow raised challengingly allowing him to catch yet another reaction he had stirred from you only raising his amused state in his secret game. “Oh? And that would be?”

Your smile grew playfully as you replied, “I know for a fact who spilled pop on the cotton bolts in the final mill scenes.” His lips parted as you giggled softly twisting slightly from side to side, “But I’m not going to say who.”

A soft chuckle left him as he shook his head, “Care for some tea, Miss y/n?”

With a grin you replied, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

You followed him into the kitchen as he asked, “Your fella didn’t help you move in?”

A soft giggle left you as you repeated, “My fella?” he turned to glance at you as he filled the kettle, “No, he has to work. No worries, he won’t be hanging around a lot. But he has agreed to sign papers for visiting, Troy’s going to send the papers over later today.”

Richard smirked at you, “Did you need help unpacking?”

Your hand waved in front of you, “No worries, I can manage it.”

He nodded, “If you do need it let me know.”

You nodded and he served the tea that bubbled over into him following you to your suite as your fluid conversation continued. A smile grew on his face that he hadn’t felt in a while, easily you had dropped into a great friendship almost instantaneously as your humor and rhetorical and sarcastic whits seemed to meld nicely into a steady back and forth. Each box he helped you shift as he stole glances at what he could, especially those meant for your sitting room turned office. All but one you allowed him to help with without caring, a large chest you awkwardly scooted into your bedroom stirred his curiosity. But he stole a glance at where you had hidden it away hoping to sneak a peek later only to catch you turning it into a bench under one of your windows under a pile of blankets. Turning back again to help you with the rest of the boxes he smiled at you when you timidly glanced at him again upon entering the main hall again.

…

Days had bled on between his busy days with interviews while you commuted to work, his week end only left him with a glimpse of you and the man in one of your photos he guessed to be your boyfriend. With furrowed brows he watched the pair of you chatting with your eyes locked on your separate notebooks. The pair of you were awkwardly sprawled on two chairs at opposing ends of the shared sitting room in the house. Quietly he passed by resuming his rituals to shower and change before exiting again to catch the man now gone. Against his racing pulse at what he assumed to be your sending him away at hearing Richard he strolled through straight to your side only to pause as he peered down at you when you smiled at him greeting him happily. “Richard! I didn’t hear you come in.”

With parted lips he glanced up as the man entered again furrowing his brows at the fruit juice bottle he passed you while saying, “I thought you switched to the green label.”

Tilting your head back you replied, “They only had the purple, but I got some tomato juice for you.”

He nodded eyeing the red bottle in his other hand before he shook it and opened it, mumbling, “I am so tired of falling for limited editions.” You smirked up at him as Richard met his eye only to get a hand held out to him, “Tim.”

Richard shook his hand, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Tim nodded and claimed his seat again as you added, “We were thinking of takeaways, want some?”

Richard wet his lips, “Oh I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You both shook your heads and said together with soft chuckles, “No intrusion at all.”

All through the meal, when it finally arrived leaving him to sit between you at the side of the table after his expecting you to sit together, but each moment of your shared aloof states left him absolutely baffled. Your attraction was there, to him and Tim, but nothing from him, not at least past a mild fondness from what Richard could see. So him being in his confirmed set aside position he started to dig deeper into the relationship leaving him, as Tim was heading home for the night, with the casual peck on the cheek you had initiated and he did not return, merely tolerated as if some favor to you, that this was a train wreck waiting to happen. Already as he headed to bed when you had said your good nights he could already perfectly see the stacks of tissue boxes, the tubs of ice cream spilling over from your freezer to his, the countless sappy romances he would no doubt inch his way into joining the marathon with you to aid in your pain relieving rituals as best he could.

Heartbreak was absolute, something he couldn’t help but share with his friends, in hypothetical situations of course, all referring to ‘a friend’ and his roommate and their crumbling relationship Richard failed in maintaining the charade and just erupted, spewing it all out leading to the guys to come visit the next day he was in town. With his own busy work schedule you barely saw each other three days a month. No doubt you had relaxed into at least verbally as one of those joking caring relationships that seemed to irritate everyone when they were equally as loving, or physically affectionate.

The single bubbly laughing conversation you shared seemed to draw the entire group in only to puzzle them as you would lean in and then lean back with a reigned in reaction as if you’d been emotionally slapped. Only a few seconds in the hour they had spent with you the they could catch the freezes when you would inch back again respecting the seemingly invisible barrier between you until his deliberate taps on your thighs and fore arms to share more details on stories.

Your parting when he had to head back to the airport only left the actors around Richard inches from angrily pummeling Tim, their reaction simply was to drag Richard to his room the minute you left the men to return to your notes to finalize some designs for work the following week. The group all shared hushed angry shouted whispers trying to make sense of why the man would dare limit any interaction with you at all.

Their final passing glance of Tim was one you had drawn them into, in a jaw droppingly tight dress you entered the room to sit beside Aidan as you smiled at him widely asking, “If I were to sit like this,” you scooted closer to him pressing your leg against his while you propped your chin in one palm, “And I pat your arm and say,” Switching your voice from normal to a giddy giggly one saying with your eyes locked on his in a teasing grin, “I can’t imagine having to wait soo long for someone to sign you. I could listen to your voice all day.”

The giggle after raised his brow as he stammered out, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

With a pat of your hand on the counter you turned to Tim pointing a finger at him abruptly snapping from your previous near enamored state, “See! I told you!”

Tim rolled his eyes, “How was I supposed to know she was flirting with me?”

“One, leaning in, two, she touched you!”

Tim shrugged, “You touch my arm all the time.”

The men groaned as you replied, “Yes, but women don’t normally go around just touching people!”

Tim shrugged, “Point taken, what else?”

Richard, with his temper as reigned in as he could muster at your attention to, Aidan added, “The look for one.”

Lee nodded, “Pure lust in those eyes.”

Graham, “And the giggle. No woman just laughs like that without trying to flatter the ego of the man she’s speaking to.”

Tim’s eyes locked on you and he huffed, “I’m never going to get this.”

You giggled and walked to his side claiming his hand guiding him to your door saying, “No worries, you’ll have five girlfriends by the end of the first month. Plenty of practice.” After bidding the guys good night they heard you add, “Now, off to the dinner, I’ve studied up and I’m going to make that little Griffen cry when I read back the text books on Geo-dynamics I’ve memorized.” Grins grew on their faces as they chuckled at your challenging tone Tim chuckled to leaving them to return to their sharing of notes on your behavior and lesson before delving into what you meant by him gaining more possible girlfriends.

…

For two months no sight of Tim had been found with only a couple echoes through the halls from skype calls from you during your usual brainstorming hours. Each time being in more and more adorable positions staring at some model for something for the shows you were working on or resting upside down trying to read back the trickier sections on the latest book you were going to fly out to narrate in another week.

This last pass by your room however brought Richard to call out, announcing his arrival from another bout of filming himself leaving him absent from your life for over two weeks jetting around the world for various small bits here and there. Through his thundering headache his voice rumbled, “Care for some take away?”

Tilting your head awkwardly you caught his eye and turned sideways smiling at him as you straightened up and said, “Sure.”

On your feet you followed the staggering man back to his kitchen to find the notebook for the numbers for your favorite places. Scratchily he nearly growled out, “What did you care for today?”

At his side your eyes lingered on the clammy complexion of the giant beside you, the beginning of trickles of sweat as he swayed on his feet, softly you said, “Rich-,” His eyes shifted to meet yours making him sway again as he watched your hand rise to press the back of your hand to his heated forehead, “Come on, you’re going to bed.”

“N-.” Your hand fixed on his jacket and you guided him through his house toward his bedroom, taking his weight against your shoulders as you did, “You need to eat.”

“And I will, after I get you in bed with some soup.”

“I don’t-.”

“Yes you do.” Firmly you guided towards his bed where in his throbbing numbness he couldn’t fight against your hands jerking his jacket off of him as carefully as you could manage while his eyes struggled to focus on you. A wet heap of clothes grew in the hamper along the wall with his damp shirt after before you guided him to sit down to help him remove his boots. A lace at a time you loosened them then tugged them free to be tossed beside his hamper freeing you to add his socks as well. On your feet again you reached up to unhook his belt only to have him fail to swat your hand away as you said, “I am getting you out of these soaked clothes.”

Sloppily he sighed, “I don’t need to be cared for.”

You nodded holding up three fingers in front of his shifting eyes, “How many fingers?”

He swatted your hand away as he stood and slumped over your shoulder as he said, “Worse than my Mum. Just need to shower.”

Rolling your eyes you steadied him and helped him to his shower where he dropped his pants in his place against the wall while you turned the shower on and stepped out saying, “I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He grumbled something and dropped his boxer briefs to step inside, closing the milky door behind him to grunt as the hot water spilled over him. Warm air swirled around him as he scrubbed as best as he could then stepped out curling in the towel you had set there to stagger across the room to fumble his way into the new boxer briefs and sweats, leaving his shirt where it was.

Around him the room swayed as he reached the door, hastily he jerked it open hoping it was just the heat getting to him. On the other side his eyes fell on you as you grabbed his arm to curl over your shoulders to guide him back to bed. “I got you. Back to bed, your soup is waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to care for me.”

You giggled as he laid back under the covers you had brushed back, against the pile of pillows he rested and watched you grab the thermometer and tried to say something only to be silenced, “Oh just stop it. You can barely cross a room alone. And stop complaining about your Mum, you know you would love it if she were here to care for you,” His lips parted as you raised the thermometer to his lips, “And if you keep complaining I will break into your phone and call her out here.”

His lips folded around the thermometer as he gave you a failed attempt at a challenging glare making you smirk at him saying, “Glare all you like.” Shifting sideways you grabbed the bowl on your left while you grabbed the beeping thermometer, “Congratulations, it’s a fever.” He rolled his eyes and then eyed the spoonful you offered him, “Open up, and no swatting or this will be all over you.”

Slowly he finished the soup holding his eyes on you as you shared about your day trying to distract him from his helpless state, then after he eyed the small cup of medicine you offered him before the tall glass of water before tucking him in. Groggily he tossed and turned in the bed on your trip to the door bringing you back to the bed after taking his dishes to the sink. With your new book in hand you returned to his bed to sit beside him catching his eyes landing on you in the middle of his internal struggle.

For all his wishes to just be alone his entire being burned and chilled at the same time, feeling his skin wishing to crawl as another layer of sweat started to form. This ache in him through his silence about your obviously missed failing relationship through his already deep attachment to you. If he hadn’t been able to be under the care of his Mother in this state there wasn’t anyone he wished to be able to be this vulnerable with, but for as much as he enjoyed it, he hated having this happen so soon after meeting you.

Barely two months in and here he was, coated in sweat and on the edge of hurling everywhere but as you scooted closer to his side he couldn’t help but turn over as his eyes drooped through the first paragraph you read aloud. The same calming voice he listened to when you were apart just to have a piece of you close no matter how heated or depressing the random slew of novels would get.

A couple hours later in a shift farther over your lap you closed the book and set it aside to quickly grab the trash can you’d set there earlier. Promptly you grabbed it and slid it up to his face when he jerked awake and rose up to heave everything inside it, firmly your hand smoothed over his back between his broken apologies as he continued to heave. When his stomach had finally settled again you moved the can and settled him back again after helping him drink from one of the water bottles you had left by the bed. Groaning deeply he laid back unable to look your way as you carried the can to dump and rinse it out before bringing it back to the bed with a damp wash cloth you eased across his forehead as you held up the thermometer saying, “Let’s check your temp again.”

Through his grumble he obeyed your order, relaxing as you wiped him down and claimed it again when it beeped through saying, “I have five brothers, and three of them have quadruplets. Guess who gets full custody when they all get sick. You are not the first to hurl from over my lap, you are however-,” you shifted to give him another round of medicine, “The first to get it all in the bucket. So you get points there.”

Weakly he chuckled then accepted the drink of water you had offered him, in a cracked voice he hoarsely rumbled, “Thank you.”

You smirked at him, “I’m going to get you something to eat.” He groaned again making you giggle, “You have to eat.”

On your path back from the kitchen with more soup you heard the back end of Bohemian Rhapsody being hummed by Richard, your smile grew at his sloppy rendition. Beside him you sat helping him eat the soup before sitting next to him letting him curl around your lap again. His eyes shut halfway through his repeat of the song after he slurred, “I think I’m writing a great song.”

You nodded, “It could be epic.” Unable to help but smile you combed your fingers through his hair easing him to sleep just moments after he mumbled in a pleased tone at your humming along, “We’re so in sync. Just meant to be.” In a hushed tone barely above a whisper he sang, “Anyway the wind blows-,” his voice trailed off as his head nuzzled closer on your lap while his arms circled around you. In your trapped spot your eyes closed while your fingers smoothed across his back for a short nap until your alarm went off to towel him down and check his temperature again before another round of meds, soup and water.

Thankfully his fever had broken and he tried to convince you to get back to your routine and he could handle himself, but as his voice had nearly died out completely after his congested night of being coated in vicks to clear it out brought on a painful round of coughing the medicine finally was able to stop. In a compromise you stretched him out in the living room while you changed his sheets and made him more soup then joined him to watch a round of courtroom tv he hoarsely argued along with you through each case. Reaching back his arms circled you in his medicine induced delirium after he insisted you sit there on your return.

His smile couldn’t have been brighter as his dying voice flowed through rambling statements about how perfect you were and any man should give you the world in his decided moment on sharing what he thought about your relationship with Tim. The discussion went on far longer in his mind with only a few scattered words here and there for you to try and piece together before he passed out again. The next couple days you shifted around the apartment struggling not to get too comfortable in his arms while his body settled against yours so easily. Each moment both absolutely perfect but still incredibly painful as it drew out the truth for what your now former relationship had been.

A farce. Tim had been your best friend since university and it wasn’t until you both had graduated you found yourselves in the same boat so to speak. The pair of you tired of the attention to your private lives and were in need of a way to silence the endless comments and set ups. For you your dreams of bringing your thoughts to life meant more at the time than any man promising you the world in exchange for a night of drinks and a roll in the sheets. While Tim had a different struggle all together, in his comfort you had been the first female friend he had obtained and the first person he had trusted enough to share his belief he was asexual. Something that made him being handsome all the more difficult for him to live without unwanted attentions, so with a bargain struck you both timidly came up with an approved set of contact and reasons for each.

With this you managed to convince most that you were perfectly happy, even in his wish as a non snuggler and you a person enamored by the desire to have someone to come home to and just melt against whenever you needed that intimate contact. Painfully you dealt with this as you didn’t wish to harm your friend’s dreams, with that however you had come to an agreement that obviously when you were apart you could see whomever you wished as long as they made you happy and respected you fully.

With a couple dates you decided against it, simply dealing with the ache over the hassle the men had turned into after even just a simple coffee. Into the film world you escaped and now that Tim had finally landed the job of a lifetime in japan you were freed from your duties as he tried to convince you not to settle with just being Richard’s friend if you caught a hint that he was interested.

Here you were, in the grip of an impossibly talented actor that you had joined millions in swooning over and helplessly daydreaming about for years now. Each day you’d learned more about him and his millions of intricate habits than any interview could muster into words. Each one more painful than the last as once again you felt like you were a tiger trapped in a glass zoo exhibit as the men milled past unable to simply feel them around you at all as you posed and flashed your teeth for those looking on. Between your bouts of looming tears at a wish for something real you struggled to hold it all out of sight and just accept that you had a contract with him and would, at best, be as good a friend to him as he would allow you to be.

By day four groggily his eyes opened to find you as his pillow once again as you rested with the just nearly finished novel open beside you with your finger still holding your place. Against his urge to rush away from you out of embarrassment for what you’d had to endure this week his hands settled on your hips guiding you flat on the bed he tucked you into after setting the book aside. With just the lingering weakness in his body he rose from the bed to shower and make a full breakfast for the pair of you he had just barely finished as you joined him at the table accepting the juice he passed you.

Your sleepy smile and loose hair partially over your face you were struggling to brush back nearly froze him in place as your eyes met his in the same bright reaction to his as you stated, “Thank you. I have half a mind to fetch the bucket for you.”

Richard couldn’t help but chuckle as he eased into his seat, “I’m certain I can make the race to the toilet if I need to. Thank you, for everything. I really feel bad about it.”

You giggled softly, “No need to. I’ve put you through a lot of my rambling and awkward rants trying to work through my props.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “And you’ve read through scripts with me to help make sense of the notes. I’d say we’re even on that front.”

“And you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you. It’s what I do back home.”

“Still-.”

“You’re not going to win this argument. Besides, I got a fair bit out of it.” His eyes flinched up to yours as he raised a brow making you giggle. “I think it was the third night I went to make soup, came back you were humming Bohemian Rhapsody.” He chuckled weakly looking at his plate, “Then when I joined in you said we were so in sync and just meant to be.”

After a groan he replied, “Unfortunately I’ve said the same thing to my Sister in law last time she popped by with soup for me to give Mum a break.” His brows furrowed, “I’m actually surprised I haven’t gotten any messages from her.”

You smirked up at him, “She called the first night. I’ve been keeping her posted. We agreed she’s going to ring you at noon, we figured you’d be out of it by then.”

“How’d you manage to keep her from taking the train out?”

“We face timed her, a lot. She gave me more than a few tips on your tricks.”

Another chuckle left him as he stole another glance at you mid bite of your breakfast. The idea you could have been so close with his Mother already eased a doubt in what he imagined to be a first step to drawing you out of your bad situation. “I don’t have tricks.”

With a giggle you replied, “Perhaps not, but you do try to be quite the charmer when you’re sick.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, “Two days back we were on the couch after another round of soup and you told me you wrote me a song, ‘because every divine creature deserves to be serenaded’.” He couldn’t help but groan, “And then you started to sing for me.”

He rubbed his place, “Please tell me I didn’t…” peaking between his fingers he asked, “More Queen?”

You shook your head with a giggle making him wonder who he could have chosen. “No. An original piece.” His head turned and he froze in place at what he could have said, “You started to sing this song about this pet hamster you had when you were six.”

His brows furrowed as his head tilted curiously through his mumble, “I never had a pet hamster.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Then you went into this bit bout the forces and I’m not certain but I got some serious Lucas North vibes.” Making him laugh as he covered his face, “I thought it was adorable. Thinking of making it my ring tone for you.” His brows rose, “You insisted I save it to replay it when I’m away next week.”

He laughed again, “I am sorry.”

You shook your head, “No apologies or I’ll send it to your friends.” Making him send a playful glare your way. “Alright I know that would break the contract, but, fine, your Mum then. There’s no Mum clause in it.” Making him chuckle again as he stole another lingering glance your way.

“I’m sorry, if we kept you from your talks with Tim. Or did we have chats with him as well?”

You giggled softly, “I got a couple emails from him. He’s settled in Japan nicely.”

In a jerk to meet your gaze he parroted back, “Japan?”

You nodded, “Five year contract, huge, amazing job.”

After wetting his lips Richard asked, “How’s that going to work, with you two, I mean? If you don’t mind that is?”

“Oh, we broke up three weeks ago. He said it wouldn’t be fair to me, that was part of the whole demonstration with Aidan and the guys, me trying to give him a few clues to when someone was interested in him.”

Richard’s brows furrowed again and he set his fork down crossing his arms on the table in front of him, tapping his finger as he spoke, “So, you were giving him tips on meeting someone else? Why?”

“He’s, my best friend.”

Richard wet his lips again, “He was also your boyfriend.”

With a steady inhale his questioning clicked in your mind, “Oh, no, I mean yes, but no.” Making his brow tick up higher, “See, we met in uni, and he was finally so relieved to make a female friend that wasn’t just trying to hit on him. Actually I was, he’s just oblivious to all that. Anyways, we settled as friends and after graduation at work we kept getting pestered about dating and all that. So we had an agreement of sorts. I’m sure you guys caught a bit of the distance when we hung out, puts some people off, but he’s not overly fond of sharing personal space, and it’s easier for me to just sit across from him then.”

“And that would be, why?”

“I’m a notorious snuggler, can’t help it.”

“And he doesn’t like to be touched. Interesting pair.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “We make up for it with the joking in most people’s eyes.”

“Why stick to it for so long?”

You shrugged, “I got tired of the lies. Nothing felt meaningful in dating with the guys I took out, just wanted flings. When, sorry if this gets a bit much, but you don’t really need a guy to get off, and it’s mostly considered weak for men to show any sort of physical intimacy past something possessive seems like, labeling me as clingy or needy when it’s just a hug damnit, they’re still going to have testicles after, I don’t see the problem with it.” His smile had grown as your words had died off.

“No, I agree. If you need someone to back up the snuggling effects on testicles let me know.” Making you giggle and get back to your meal.

…

The next couple days had passed and you had found yourself off on another flight across the ocean to the States to record that large novel leaving Richard home alone without anything to distract him from his racing thoughts about you. Across his couch he once again set his phone down on his chest after listening to one of the recorded clips of you both singing together, including his hamster song you had sent to him before his mind raced back to the chest he still had no clue what it had contained. Without reason he rose and crossed through the house to your open room. Wetting his lips he peeked inside even knowing you were safely across an ocean. Slowly he made for the chest and carefully shifted the folded blankets from on top of it before his eyes slid over the chest assuring there was no lock before he eased it open.

Inside he peered over the stacks of films and random trinkets obviously autographed or special edition for a few random actors. Using his phone to light it up he grinned seeing his films and shows inside on one side above a small pair of plushies, one of John Thornton and the other of Guy of Ghisborne in a pile with characters from the original Lord of the Rings beside a set of plushies for Jurrassic Park and King Kong. Each item making him chuckle as he realized why you had hidden it, you had mentioned you were a fan of his but clearly you were trying not to show him just how big of a fan. With a smile he moved the blankets back exactly how they were and he went to make himself some lunch returning to his planning on what to do with you.

Pt 2

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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critic-corner · 6 years

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Margot Robbie at ‘Mary Queen of Scots’ Event : Even though the distressed hem of the denims are a tad bit distracting, I still like this look quite a lot because of how amazing the top looks on her and I adore that hairstyle. It is perfectly high fashion but also appropriate for the press tour.

#margot robbie #fashion #Fashion Review

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gothify1 · 6 years

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Below-freezing temperatures and bulky outerwear can make winter a challenging time, sartorially speaking, but come January, the gloves are off—both literally and figuratively—when Hollywood’s jet-set touches down in sunny Los Angeles for award season. Thanks to a blockbuster year in film, music, and television, the 2019 red carpets are an opportunity to make a major statement. Here, we’ve shown an early spotlight on 23 actors and musicians guaranteed to land spots on the 2019 awards season’s best-dressed lists. Let’s start with a red carpet renaissance woman: Lady Gaga is going to have an epic award season. We can’t wait to see what she wears to the Golden Globes, the Oscars, and the Grammys when she wins big for basically everything A Star Is Born is nominated for; her style evolution has been a true Hollywood glow-up! A close second and perennial team Who What Wear fave, Emma Stone is bound to inspire your next black-tie event look when she hits the red carpets in 2019. Think she’ll take any notes from her character, Abigail Masham, in The Favorite and go full baroque, or keep it completely contemporary with the latest from Louis Vuitton? Speaking of The Favourite , Joe Alwyn , aka Baron Masham, aka the first earl of Leicester in Mary Queen of Scots , is guaranteed to have a memorable awards season (especially if Taylor Swift is on his arm). The 27-year-old British actor had a banner year with four movies premiering in 2018, and undoubtedly cribbed a few style notes from several of Hollywood’s leading ladies—we have a feeling his star status is about to skyrocket. Of course, award season wouldn’t be a must-watch moment if not for a little healthy competition. Saoirse Ronan and Margot Robbie , two of 2018’s best dressed and co-stars/rivals in Mary Queen of Scots , are absolutely going to slay—sartorially speaking. Spoiler alert: There’s a clear winner in the film (and, um, history), but we’d be absolutely thrilled if the top red carpet ranking featured a tie between these two sensational style stars. While we’re revisiting history, let us remember the ground-breaking, earth-shaking, and red carpet–rousing movie of the year, Black Panther . Boasting an all-star lineup and memorable world premiere in which the cast paid homage to African royalty, we hope this stylish crew—especially Chadwick Boseman, Lupita Nyong’o, Michael B. Jordan, Leticia Wright, Danai Gurira, Daniel Kaluuya, and Angela Bassett —continues its winning streak throughout award season. Wakanda forever! Crazy Rich Asians , one of the most over-the-top and enjoyable fashion films of the year, was a feast for the eyes both on screen and at the red carpet premiere. Constance Wu , the movie’s leading lady, worked with celeb stylist and Who What Wear contributor Micaela Erlanger for the press tour last summer, creating gorgeous looks for a range of appearances. We love how they play with fashion together and can’t wait to see which designer is selected for the Globes in January. Fashion’s latest It boy, Timothée Chalamet , had an incredible 2017 with Oscar-nominated films Lady Bird and Call Me by Your Name , and this year, he added Golden Globe nominee to his list of accolades. Not only does the Beautiful Boy star embrace bold colors and prints, but he’s also reportedly self-styled. We’re impressed! If you haven’t already heard of Kiki Layne , don’t worry—you will soon. Her breakout film, If Beale Street Could Talk , an adaptation of James Baldwin’s 1974 novel by Oscar-winning director Barry Jenkins, has already been nominated for several Golden Globes ahead of its premiere. Kiki has a major year ahead of her with at least two other projects in the can, and we’re excited for her red carpet debut with Regina King, her fellow Beale Street star and Golden Globe nominee. Rounding out our list of film favorites is a newcomer, Elsie Fisher . At just 15, she has captured hearts as the cringe-worthy (in the best way!) ingenue of Bo Burnham’s directorial debut, Eighth Grade , which premiered over the summer. Elsie has already made an impression at smaller red carpet events, and she recently spoke to Vanity Fair about her affinity for suits, remarking, “I feel like suits are very me… I look poppin’ in ’em!” We couldn’t agree more. As far as red carpet style goes, we find musicians tend to be a bit more daring than actors, which is why we’re especially excited for the 2019 Grammys. One woman who never ceases to surprise us with her style chops is Cardi B, who is up for album of the year for Invasion of Privacy . Whether Cardi goes full-on glam, breaks a piece out of Versace’s archives, or debuts her upcoming collab with Fashion Nova, we know she’ll dress to impress—red bottoms, guaranteed. It’s no surprise that with the rise of the rosé wave in pop music came the return of cowboy boots . At the center of this ethereal yet empowering moment is singer Kacey Musgraves . The “Velvet Elvis” singer has already racked up several Country Music Awards but was recently nominated for album of the year for Golden Hour , transcending the confines of her genre, and presenting an opportunity to show off her unique mix of vintage-meets–high-fashion style at next year’s Grammys. We’ve had our eyes on Dua Lipa ever since she explained “New Rules” to us in 2017, and we were thrilled by her two Grammy nominations this year. Up for best new artist and best dance recording, this edgy British singer and street style star will undoubtedly make a major red carpet splash throughout 2019. Is there anything Tessa Thompson can’t do? In addition to her appearance in Janelle Monae’s much-buzzed-about “Pynk” music video, the Creed and Westworld star is a style chameleon who’s bound to thrive during award season—even if she’s just there to support her friends and castmates, the similarly suave Michael B. Jordan and Thandie Newton. Let’s talk about Lili Reinhart for a minute: Not only has she captured hearts as Betty (and Dark Betty!) on Riverdale for the past three seasons, but she’s also become a media darling, sharing insights into acting , acne , and of course, all things Archie. Notably, we love her brand-new campaign photos for the Mighty Company x Ilaria Urbanati celestial-inspired charity collection—hey, if anyone can pull of stars and stripes on a red carpet, it’s Lili. See you at the Emmys? If you haven’t already caught up on Atlanta , consider this an official mandate. You’ll probably recognize Zazie Beetz as Vanessa Keefer, Donald Glover’s character’s ex-girlfriend. Or maybe you remember her from Deadpool 2 as Domino, a mutant whose superpower is luck. Either way, Zazzie is definitely one to watch this red carpet season, especially since she’s being styled by Jason Bolden, whose other clients include Yara Shahidi and Sasha Lane. Be sure to look for her at this year’s Golden Globes supporting Donald, and hopefully again on the Emmys red carpet next fall. Finally, we’ve got the one and only Busy Philipps. Unless you’ve completely opted out of pop culture and social media this year, Philipps has been on your mind—or more accurately, on your phone! A forever fave from early aughts teen dramas Dawson’s Creek and Freaks and Geeks , Philipps has BLOWN UP in 2018 thanks to her hilarious commentary, candor, and colorful style which is broadcast via her Instagram, recently released memoir, This Will Only Hurt a Little , and new E! show, Busy Tonight . Working with stylist Karla Welch (who also counts Tracee Ellis Ross and Sarah Paulson as clients), you know Busy’s bound to bust a move, whether on the red carpet, in her nightgown, or at a tiny trampoline class. Think I missed any potential red carpet style stars of 2019? Hit me up on Twitter or Instagram at @Drewblahblah and we’ll put them on Who What Wear’s radar before the New Year. Up Next: From the Oscars to the Golden Globes, Cannes to the British Fashion Awards here’s where you’ll find the most glorious red carpet looks .

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