#people saying that hes reached the point at being at aston that hes now gonna destroy it and ruin the relationship

[skitskatdacat63]

The hate nando is getting right now is lame. Even moresp when ppl are doing anti tags.

Aaaahh yeah it's really annoying :/ I've not seen too much hate on here, because I really try not to go looking for it bcs it makes me rly annoyed. And that's like, probably one of the only things that will get me to actually block someone(which I rarely ever do.) However, I do frequent reddit and there was some post abt his comments after the sprint and UGH the comments bothered me so much. Sometimes I'm tempted to look at the anti tags, but from what I've seen already, ik it's gonna piss me off. I already blocked some people yesterday bcs of it.

I've talked abt this a lot with people but. Ik rationally that there's some people out there who don't like him, and don't enjoy his antics. But it sucks to see people hate on the traits that you like best 😔 Like people saying "he's a really good driver BUT his off track antics ruin his career, and he should never win a race." And a lot of antis, it feels like they're always waiting for some tiny thing like this to validate their opinion that Fernando is genuinely a terrible person who doesn't deserve anything. People want drama, and then they hate it when he gives them drama 🙄 anyways I have a lot of thoughts on the comments he made, but idk if I should say on main haha, not that I really care. Also, people now calling him a terrorist for accidentally being at the scene of the crime for several crashes, when he's one of the cleanest drivers ever 😔 rude.

[raapija]

Easy one for the driver opinion bingo: lance!

Leaving my two biggest pookies for last... 🤭

Where do I even begin with Lance... I adore him. His passion and fight to keep driving despite all the hardship and hate he gets thrown at him. His never-ending love for his family and friends. The way he never gives up.

He might be a pay driver, but he is also the center of the whole Aston Martin team. It is built around him and he's had the same people working with him since Racing Point and even Williams. He's the thing that holds the team together. He's always loyal to his people ❤️ He acknowledges his position is priviledged, but has also always stayed humble. He knows his father is paying for his career, but he never let it get to his head. If you had endless money, would you not do the same for your kid? Give them everything you possibly could to reach their dreams ❤️ (brb, gonna cry for a bit about them...) And he loves his mom so so much, too, and adores his big sister ❤️

He is maybe the most thoughtful person on the grid. He might be shy and quiet and keep to himself, but he's always paying attention. And he's always kind to others, just look at the secret santa videos of him buying actual real gifts, not just some merch or other promo stuff, like many others. He never gets political, always just says how he feels about himself and thanks the team after every quali and race.

It's great to see him get a little more comfortable again now that Fernando is in the team. He just needs someone beside him who respects him and sees him as he is and not just as some rich kid from Montreal. The way he shut down after entering F1 was heartbreaking. He was always smiling and talking non-stop and then... completely changed over the years. But hopefully now he gets that smile back, at least it seems like he's been feeling better in the past couple of years ! ❤️

His only crimes are having a loving father, being best friends with a frenchman and falling in love with a crazy old Spanish guy. That's all 😭❤️

[ivyglow]

Mine | Anthony Beauvillier

A/n: this idea came after we had a very sexy- I mean- Angry* Anthony pushing Sidney Crosby. Barbie and some anons send the good energy and so althought it took me forever here it is *cheers*. A huge thank you for @barbienoturbby​ for sending me some specific ideas (sharpies, choking etc hehehe), putting up w my random messages in the middle of the night or being a insecure bitch, ILY BARBIE! Huge shout out to @sebs-aston​ for proofreading this so fast *you’re amazing, liv!*.  PS. More than ever I’m gonna need your feedback because I’m an insecure bitch and this is my first time writing smut (freddie was thigh riding, I don’t consider it too much). So please just lmk if you like it or hate it <3 

Word count: 4k

Warnings: smut, mention of chocke, spitting, oral -female receiving- and all those dirty stuff. 

Summary: after getting angry on the ice, you decide to make Anthony angry in bed too. 

You knew Tito was a dom in bed as soon as you met him: he helped you to sit and to get up on your first date, and he led you to your car with his hand on your lower back. One month into getting to know each other, you were planning a gathering with his friends and he was the one to assign everyone with a task. Some days he would use fewer words and stick with hand gestures or eye contact to tell you what he wanted or what he was silently saying. 

So when you two had sex for the first time and he was on top, you were not surprised, you also weren’t surprised when he asked how would you feel about hair pulling, choking, and tying. And, well, you’d never tried any of this, so you were honest with him, knowing that honesty was the key to make things work. He promised to go slow, and he watched you intently while he did everything just to make sure you were comfortable. You can still remember how it felt when he first stretched you, how your heel went to his back to accommodate his waist better, how this movement gave him the perfect angle to go all the way until the end. 

You also remember the hickeys he left on your skin, mostly on places where your clothes could hide, but some you knew he purposely made for people to see. And people saw, indeed and also heard. He got a noise complaint twice because his old bed would scratch and bang on the wall, and that wouldn’t be a huge problem if it was anyone else, but it was Anthony, a hockey player, at that point -your boyfriend-, and he had the stamina to go for hours. A chug of water, maybe a fruit snack, and less than twenty minutes later he was ready to go again - or he would use these twenty minutes to get you off with his mouth and fingers. So the noise complaint was very much expected. 

Now six months into the relationship, this wasn’t a problem anymore. Tito bought a new bed, and even talked with a friend about the possibility of getting soundproof walls. That’s why you were drinking your water and eating one of his energy bars while watching the game. The dynamic after games was usually very sexual, it didn’t matter if he was on the road or at home, you would find a way to get off, either phone sex or spicy pics. He never left you to your own hands. 

The Isles were playing against the Penguins and you knew he was pissed off because of their losing streak against that team. That made him angry with some specifics players too. When he got home last night, you just cuddled together and went to sleep, he was tired and fuming because of their loss, and he probably heard a handful by his coach. Because of those losses, you knew he was going to skate his way around the ice tonight more than ever, and, especially, that he was angry. 

You were laying on his couch when the game started, the Isles skating around the ice in a way you would have bet was a premonition for another loss, but ten minutes in things started to go differently, and that was the exact moment when you sat and gripped Beau’s shirt before an amazing shot hit the Pens’ net. They kept the rhythm on for the next two periods, although they were pretty much stressful- a handful of times you caught yourself holding your breath or cursing. The last two were also a stage for your boyfriend’s anger. He was pissed in a way you’d never seen before on the ice, and when Sidney Crosby pushed Pulock, Tito had had enough and shoved the opposition’s player on the ice. Torn between finding it hot or funny, you chose the latter letting out a loud laugh. Yet, when another exchange of pushes happened between the Pens’ superstar and Beau you sure felt the heat taking up space inside your body and you shifted on the couch. There was another goal and the game kept on providing stress and anxiety for the fans, but you were stuck on the scene your boyfriend had just put up. 

He was usually like this in bed, but not that much on the ice, and seeing that happening outside the four walls left you with a lingering warmth inside your body, and not the cute warmth you usually felt when he cooked for you or told you how much he loved you. But the warmth you got whenever he bent you on the kitchen counter or held your hand tight while going down on you. 

It was past midnight when you heard the door open and close, the soft click making your heart beat faster. He was home. You heard the thud of his bag on the floor and his steps bringing his scent closer to the living room where you were sitting on the couch wearing only his jersey and his favorite lace.

“Hey you, winner,” your voice echoed in the dimly lit apartment and you could see his lips curling in a small smile.

“Hey, babe,” his lips found yours on a quick peck and you looked up for more contact, but Anthony was already walking to the kitchen. 

“Are you ok?” you asked, barefoot padding the floor until you reached the stool.

Your boyfriend was already busy cutting some bananas in a bowl, “Yeah, just a little stressed with the game and hungry,” he answered.

“But you won,” you stated in confusion. 

His eyes scanned you for a second before going back to his task. The silence was everything you needed to know: he really was not in the mood for long talks after the episode, but you were a woman on a mission and you knew exactly what to do to get Anthony riddled up. 

“You guys had a great game…” you began, cautious with your words and actions, hands reaching for a banana on the fruit bowl. “How was playing against Sidney Crosby?”

You saw how his eyebrows raised slightly before pouring honey on his bowl and whipping his fingers with his tongue. You knew the action wasn’t supposed to be filthy, yet you’ve been dating him long enough to know that he knew every action of his could be seen as sexual at some point. 

“It was normal, he’s a normal hockey player like any of us,” his tone is nonchalant. 

You suppress a grin, “he’s not like any of you, he’s Sidney Crosby. Just last night he reached his thousandth game,” Tito’s now chewing on his fruit and you can see how the motion seems tighter after your words, still you keep going, “he’s like a superstar! I would love to meet him any of these days…” you trail off busying yourself on biting the banana you just peeled off. His eyes trained on how your lips wrap around the piece of fruit, your tongue purposely darting out. Your boyfriend chooses silence again and you huff rolling your eyes. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he queries, eyes on his bowl, jaw still clenched tight while biting another piece of his fruit. You dart your eyes in another direction while biting your banana again, this time without so much care on giving him a hard time. “I asked you a question, y/n,” his tone was sharp and his voice low. You shake your head. 

He grabs his water bottle before chugging half of the content, “Cat got your tongue? I swear I just saw you poking it out while eating that banana to provoke me,” he tauntingly  gives you a defiant look. 

Anthony motions for you to come to him and you follow his orders willingly, eager to finally have your way with him. You’re within arm’s reach when he tugs you closer, making you stumble in the middle of his big thighs. In a blink of an eye, you feel the sting on your butt cheeks, his big hands finding it again one more time before grabbing your chin. “You can’t even wait for your man to eat,” it’s a low grunt and he seems more annoyed with your playful smile, and you see the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit more, “You could eat something else, there’s nothing stopping you…” 

With that Anthony seems to lose his judgment before swinging your body on top of the counter, “you’re being such a brat tonight” his hands grab your butt squeezing it hard, “that’s not how you get the things you want” 

“No? Then why are you about to fuck me?” you mock him knowing damn right that this would only make him go harder on you. 

“Crisse,” (holy shit) his French accent makes your pussy throb. You loved when he talked in French to you.

His big hand pushes you back in a swift motion, the same hand spreads your legs for him, and it’s only a second before you’re fully laying on the counter. Still wearing only a lace thong and his jersey, you know the former is about to be ripped out of you. Anthony drags his fingers from the bottom of your belly to your breasts before gifting you a devilish smirk as soon as he notices you’re not wearing a bra. 

“You think Sidney Crosby is the superstar, but you know damn well I’m gonna be the reason why you’re seeing stars tonight,” he whispers before sitting on the stool and kissing up to your thighs. His lips are sticky from the honey and because they’re cold it sends chills running through your warm body. You stretch your arms to reach his hair and he hums grabbing your wrists harshly, “no hair pulling for you tonight,” his murmurs hit your skin and you let out a small whine. 

In order to play with your sensations, you see him taking a long gulp of his cold water. You know it will make his mouth colder and slicker, and you know he’s only doing it because he’s planning to spend a long time between your legs.

And that he does.

You sigh when his lips finally reach your pussy, the shock it causes is good and you can’t help but close your thighs in an attempt to bring him where you are really yearning for his lips. Nevertheless, that’s not what he has planned for you, and he drags his mouth between your pussy lips long before finally wrapping his lips on your clit and humming in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck,” you let out a whine when his fingers reach for your nipple and twist it hard. His wet tongue flickered on your clit and he dived in deeper, making you feel all of him, from his stubble that was starting to grow to his full lips, you could feel it all.

“Anthony,” you try to form a sentence in the exact moment he pushs one finger inside of you, but your voice comes out as a prayer. A plea for more. 

You were a sinner for him.

“You taste so good,” it’s a pleasure mumble and it comes just before his palm strikes your butt cheeks in a firm slap. “I could spend days here, bébé” 

“Anthony,” you try again and this time he laughs with his lips still wrapped around your clit. The vibrations send shivers through your whole body, your toes curl and you try to reach for his hair again before his hand holds both of your wrists. 

You’re close and he knows it because he adds another finger and curls it. It’s a ‘come here’ motion and from another dimension, you were almost able to hear him whisper the same words in French. 

“Give it to me,” he demands, and you do as said just as another finger hits your right spot. For some seconds the kitchen’s ceiling turns black with dots and your vision goes blurry. Toes curling, the pitch on your belly button finally making its way out just like the curses and moans that leave your mouth. Most of them being his name and how good he makes you feel. 

You’re not even done with your high when his big hands grab your ankles bringing your body to the edge of the counter and making you sit. “Open your mouth,” he demands. 

You moan, eyes rolling back from pleasure, “put your tongue out for me, má chérie,” his hands, now holding your jaw, tighten around you. There’s a whimper of bliss and you part your lips wide bringing your tongue out just like demanded before he spits on your mouth. 

“See how good you taste?!” Anthony hums and you swallow it before poking your tongue out again and licking from his glistering chin to his lips. The action fuels a passionate kiss and it’s seconds before your weak legs wrap themselves around his waist bringing him closer. Your core finds the bulge on his pants and you whimper feeling aroused again. 

Your boyfriend is fast to grasp the underside of your thighs bringing your body close to his before making his way towards the bedroom. You take your time licking and kissing his neck and jaw until your body hits the mattress and he’s unbuckling his belt.

“Take it off” he commands, unbuttoning his dress shirt. You’re fast to obey taking off the jersey you’re wearing, now you’re fully naked in front of him. 

“Hands,” you put both of your wrists together and he fastens his belt around it tight. 

From the way his eyebrows were slightly up to his lips parted, you knew he was about to give you another orgasm, you knew that he wasn’t done and he wouldn’t be any time soon. 

“Do we have a safe word tonight, bébé?” his full lips find your jaw and neck and he nibbles on your ear before sucking harshly on your neck again. 

His purpose is to mark you, not only where people can see, but also where they can’t. Just like your waist is being held with such fierceness, you know it’ll leave prints there. You hum a yes dropping your head to the side so he can have more access to your skin, “use your words, you know I need to hear you say it,” he whispers now bringing his mouth to your nipples and biting it lightly. You whimper, “our safe word is blue.” 

“Perfect,” you can feel his smile on your skin and when you reach for his hair with your hands tied, he pushes them up. His strong arm swings on top of your belly and he takes his time on your breasts before making his way lower. There’s a pitch bubbling on your belly again just with the idea of it and he gives you mischievous grim kissing and licking your thighs. 

“Beau,” you whine already feeling your legs weakening again.

“I told you I was hungry, you were the one who suggested the meal,” the funny remark is accompanied by a flicker of his tongue on your cunt. “Now I’ll only stop when I’m satisfied.” 

You curse closing your hands and trying to bring your waist up. He shakes his head, “huh huh, that’s a bad girl attitude,” he spits on your pussy and you moan loud, “and you know exactly what we do to bad girls in this house, don’t you?” 

You nod and he chuckles.

“Words.” 

“I know, sir.” 

“Now, there’s my good girl,” he praises finding your clit and holding it carefully between his teeth, “now give it to me just like you suggested,” he murmurs before diving on your pussy, his tongue gentle and slow, in contrast with his solid arm pinning you to the bed and his rough behavior. 

It would be a long ride and you would feel every step taken, because each one would bring you closer to the inevitable. You felt urgency though; you wanted him to fuck your brains out already. But Anthony took his time, and you knew he was being good because he let you cum in the kitchen even after you provoked him. When his point finger entered you, your eyes couldn’t focus and you knew you were closer, yet instead of giving you a release, your boyfriend took his kisses to your thighs grinning at you one more time. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he speaks under his breath, eyes trained on your pussy. Yet you don’t feel ashamed, because it’s Anthony, and he knows you like the back of his hands, he knows what to do to make you comfortable and he knows how to make you feel good. He would praise and love your body rightly, so you let him. You spread your legs wider and gave him a lopsided smile. 

“Please,” you plead again that night; however, he follows your request this time. 

Anthony dives in again, licking and spitting, flickering his tongue and using his fingers. Giving you what he got and what he knows you like. Your body is fast to answer, your waist trying to go higher to find his mouth, your toes curling, your head shooting back and your eyes rolling. 

He got you there. Fast.

And he made sure to ride you out of you high, this tongue not the least careful with your sensitive bud, while cleaning you up he kept licking it lightly. Full lips brushing it with dedication. 

“Now I want you on all fours,” there’s a dirty smile on his glistering lips and you hold back another moan with the image of Anthony sitting between your legs, face glowing with your cum, “allos y,” (c’mon). You turn your body, holding your hands before supporting your head on the pillows, ass up for him.

There’s the noise of a slap and the sting on your butt cheeks, right before a soft kiss is placed on top of the surely red mark. His hands roam around your body and you shiver when he grabs your hair. “Crisse, tu as l'air si chaud,” (holy shit, you look so hot) Anthony slaps you booty again and finally slips his finger at your entrance feeling your wetness pool around. You’re already ready for him again and he seems pleased with the realization. So pleased it doesn’t take long for him to slip inside of you hitting just the right spot. Your body shots upward and he holds you by your waist keeping your butt bent. 

“Anthony,” you moan loudly when he starts moving ruthlessly inside of you. There’s something hot about how his body is being aggressive and you are taking it all, how his hips are almost knocking your body down, “right - fucking - there,” you whine and he keeps going, this time grabbing your hair and making your body lean towards him. 

“Whose name are you screaming tonight, bébé?” he mumbles bending his own body on top of yours without completely letting go of the position. 

“Yours,” your answer between groans. 

“Let me hear you” 

And you do.

You say his name out loud and clear, and you’re almost sure the neighbors are going to hear it. Yet you do it again and again while the sound of your voice is mixed with the noise of his skin hitting your skin and his feral grunts. He’s big and hard inside you and every time he goes out to get inside again you can feel your pussy stretching out to accommodate him. 

“Beau,” you moan and he chuckles leaning his body down to kiss your back. You see from the corner of your eyes when he finds the black marker on the top of your drawer, you can almost see his head working on ideas, and then he’s grabbing the sharpie you were using to write on your sticky notes earlier today. 

His body is straight up again and his movements are now slower, as he unclasps the marker and you feel its cold material hit your skin. There’s a long up and then down movement, you’re almost sure it’s an M, and then there’s a harsh line of an I, you can hear his grunts louder and he stops himself for a second before shooting his body towards yours again. The sharpie finds your skin again, this time to draw an N, you knew he was doing it big, not only for his eyes, but for you to feel and to know exactly what it was as he wrote the last letter, an E. 

You roll your eyes when he closes and throws the sharpie somewhere in the room before leaving another one of his blows on your butt cheeks. Anthony swings his arm around your torso bringing you up to him, your back hitting his solid chest, “you’re mine,” and that’s what it takes for you to come undone on his still hard cock. Your whole body trembles and your vision goes blurry again, there are tears in your eyes, and this time your moans turn into screams of satisfaction. 

He keeps fucking you through your high and you curse dropping your head back on his shoulder. His hand sneaks in front of your body to touch your sensitive clit, and you hold it sinking your nails on his skin. “Oh fuck,” he grunts drawing his finger deeper. You’re not sure if your body can’t take so much pleasure.

“Let me ride you,” it’s a prayer, a plea, a cry, and you can feel his lips on your neck before your bodies are turned and you’re on top taking him deeper, touching new spots. 

“That’s it, bébé,” he praises you and you roll your hips using your last energies. His hands find their way to your thighs and his short nails dig on your skin bringing you impossibly closer. There’s a deep grunt from him and a small whine from you. It’s hard for your eyes to focus, and you use your body to pin his down and your tied hands find his neck before squeezing it. His hips shot up under you and you scream, tightening your grip on him and squeezing his dick inside of you. 

You can feel another knot on the pitch of your belly, but this time it feels different to recognize this new sensation. That’s when you notice the wetness under you dripping onto his cock to his belly button and in the bed. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “Oh shit, you’re squirting,” his big hands go to your back and he keeps shooting his hips up to meet your pussy, “that’s it, bébé, give it to me once more,” and you’re squeezing him one last time before giving both of you a mind-blowing orgasm. Your body tumbles on top of his and this time things go pitch black instead of blurry. You can still feel his hot body under you and his rapid heartbeat, but your body is fluttering and there’s nothing in front of you. There’s only his body. There’s only your boyfriend existing under you with his cock still deep inside of you. 

It’s seconds before his caresses on your back become some kind of poking, “y/n?” 

“Huh?” you mumble, your voice raspy. He chuckles.

“Fuck, you passed out,” he sounds proud and you giggle. 

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had,” you confess without finding the strength to move your hands and caress him back, but Anthony keeps the tip of his fingers moving softly around your body, “I think I should talk more about Sidney Crosby, huh?” you joke and his hips shot upward making you moan Anthony’s name. Although he just came, he’s still hard and deep inside your soaked pussy.

“What were you saying?” he questions with a smug grin. “I think you were saying something about a certain player, Sidney Crosby maybe?” 

You arch your eyebrows, “who’s Sidney Crosby? I only know Anthony Beauvillier,” and he laughs at your answer before kissing your lips softly. You know there’s gonna be a time for water and a fruit snack later and then he’s going again, because he’s never done until you’re completely wrecked, the only name able to escape your lips being his. 

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[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

BESTIES!! PART 10 IS A HOT ONE!! Enjoy reading it as much as I did while writing it (and re-reading it because its probs one of my fav parts of the whole series) Love Always, Steph xx

Part 10 | parte dieci

warnings; heavy-petting, almost-smut, and a hot jack grealish - read at your own risk ;) word count; 2469. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Monday 16/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Longing glances and shy smiles. That  was how Amelia and Ben both spent the next morning at Cobham together, prior to travelling to Stamford Bridge for the fourth match of the season against Aston Villa. The two had spent the rest of the evening relaxing on the couch; no additional kisses were shared between them as they had both agreed to keep things friendly, and no matter how hard Ben tried, Amelia had no intentions of going any further just yet. She had admitted to him something that she had never uttered out loud before: she still needed to work out how to exist without Fede.

While their situationship had been as unconventional as it was, it was still something that Amelia had grown to live with and love. Fede’s personality was unlike no other she had come across, perhaps closest to that of Jack Grealish. Friendly, flirtatious, charming, to the point where she found herself blushing sometimes - not many people had been able to make her shy enough to blush, but Fede had, and now Jack was too.

hot boy grealish

mornin mils, can’t wait to see ya today.

I’ll be the hot one with the good hair and even better ass.

hot gal mils

morning my dear jacky, looking forward to seeing you too.

Is Tyrone not playing?

His bum has always been my fav bum to stare at.

hot boy grealish

cut it out, you.

Banter-filled texts had been a constant stream of entertainment throughout the days leading up to the match. Jack has been preparing Amelia for the possibility of her losing, constantly picking on the girl for being an overachiever and saying that she needs to be brought down a few pegs, having been quite some time since her team had lost a match. Amelia however, with enough self-confidence to rival that of the villa boy, wouldn’t even let him finish his sentences. Far too superstitious for that to happen.

The girl believed in superstitions, and she was not about to tempt her fate. She even went so far as to have her family name and a small Italian flag embroidered onto the inside of her collar of every polo shirt she would wear for match days. She did it at Juventus and organised for it to be done to her new Chelsea uniform. It was a personal choice, something that happened to run in her family also, her father and brother also having the White family name stitched to the inside of their kit. It was a way of keeping them all tied together, no matter what side of the pitch they were on. The Italian flag was there to remind her of all that the country had given her: her grandparents and a chance to be brilliant at what she loves most.

Arriving at Stamford Bridge off of the team bus, Jorgi had insisted she sitwith him and they spoke exclusively in Italian for the 30-odd minute drive from Cobham. Despite Amelia purchasing a new car a few days prior, Jorgi insisted they continue to carpool. It worked out well because now Amelia wouldn’t have to catch the team bus back to the training ground after the match. She had spent the better part of an hour out on the pitch with some of the boys, running through the plays she had in mind before she ushered them back into the changeroom, allowing the Aston Villa men to have their time out on the grass.

______________________________________________________________

“I would know that bum anywhere.”

“Hello Jack, nice to see you too. I’ve been well thanks, so has my bum. I’ll let my face know you said hello, too,” I spoke as I stood up from my crouched position, where I had been tying my laces.

“Just kiddin love, actually no I'm not - I love your bum. But I am happy to see your beautiful face too!” Jack spoke, as he pulled me into a hug - wrapping both of his arms around my head, effectively pushing me further into his chest.

“You saw my face a couple days ago when we were on FaceTime!”

“I saw your bum a few days ago on FaceTimetoo, doesn’t mean I'm not happy to see it!”

“So that's why you like helping me do my laundry, so you can see my backside as I reach into the machine!”

“Now I’m not a religious man, but I have prayed to God a few times that you drop a sock or two riiiiiiight in front of the camera.” He laughed back at my shocked expression.

“Jack! You are ridiculous! Stop being such a perv! No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend” I play-shouted at him as I smacked him with my rolled up matchday program.

“I’m holding out for you, my love.”

“Always the joker, Jack. Get out there and prepare for the worst match of your season.”

“Dream on Mils, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Sure thing Jacky, sure thing.”

I walked further up the tunnel towards the changeroom, getting ready to deliver my strategy talk to the boys.

“Stop looking at my ass, Grealish!” I shouted without turning around. The boisterous laugh that followed my exclamation was enough to know that I was correct. I didn’t need to turn around to be able to predict what the laddish lad was already doing.

60 minutes of football later.

Amelia was correct in saying that Chelsea were going to win the match, her quiet confidence only getting louder and louder as each premier league match went on. She was apprehensive at first to see if her tactics were going to work in the Prem, or if there was to be some compromise on skill due to the fast-paced nature of the game. So far, however, the Chelsea men were quick learners and even quicker to execute.

One thing she wasn’t prepared for, however, was the absolute worldie that Jack had scored just before half-time at the Bridge. There was an element of familiarity in his goal, recognising the play as one of her own. A small smile crossed  her face after he scored, running to celebrate with the away fans before jogging down past the bench and mouthing a quick “all you baby” at her as he moved back into position. She must have told him about it back when she was in Italy, knowing that there was no chance she would have exchanged her trade secrets to an enemy in the same league. It warmed her to know he paid enough attention to her to be able to practice that on his own with his team and execute it flawlessly in a live game.

What Amelia also wasn’t prepared for was for anyone else to recognise the play. Behind her on the bench sat an oddly-inquisitive Ben. He saw the tactic as it was playing out, recognising the run that Jack had to make to put himself in the box at the exact moment that John McGinn crossed the ball. Better yet, he saw Jack run down the sideline, nowhere near where he should have been, and mouth those words to Amelia. He wanted to know what was going on, was that why she wasn’t ready to commit to him?

Later that same evening.

After a hot shower, Amelia was curled up on the couch, ready to continue the docuseries she was watching the night before when she had an unexpected visitor pop round and confess his feelings to her. Thinking back on the night prior, she was happy that things ended up working out the way they did. Of course she wasn’t exactly thrilled with just how they happened but she could forgive the sweet boy. His intentions were pure and that's not something she was used to. It made her giddy to think about him, and about where things may go in the future.

A ring of her doorbell, almost to the exact hour that it had the night prior, made her get off her couch and walk down the small hall to the front door with a smirk on her face. Expecting to see the same brown-haired, blue-eyed boy that seemed to enjoy ringing her bell after hours. What she saw on the other side, however, was not what she was expecting.

“Jack, what on bloody God’s earth are you doing here?! You should be halfway back to Birmingham by now!”

“Are you gonna let me in love, it’s bloody cold out ‘ere tonight. Come on, shove over,” The slightly-less-than-6-foot-tall footballer commandeered her hallway, shutting the door behind him and locking it. This,  coupled with his overnight duffle bag hanging off his shoulder let Amelia know that he had no other plans but to stay with her.

“Sure, Jack, I suppose you can come in and spend the night crashing in my spare room.”

“Now now, don’t pretend that you’re not happy to see me, love. And a spare room? I believe you promised me a cuddle.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile at the charming young man. Feeling the blush start to spread from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks, she quickly turned and walked into her kitchen, calling out over her shoulder to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. Feeling a sense of deja vu from the night before, she shook her head and reminded herself that this is nothing like the night before. How could it have been - there was no kissing involved.

“Was that a blush I saw? Do I make you nervous, Amelia?” Somehow, Jack had moved to be right behind the girl at her kitchen counter. Hands on her hips, chest to her back, lips to her ear. Amelia felt herself freeze, and then relax into his hands.

“Jack, please, I don’t think we should do this.”

“Why not, Mils? You can feel it, too. The tension through the screen’s enough to force me into a cold shower most nights.”

And just like the night before, the whistle of the kettle was the only piercing sound resonating around the townhouse. Whilst all she saw was truth behind Ben’s eyes, Jack's eyes were clouded with lust and affection. Just once, she could give in, right?

Leaning her head back to rest on his right shoulder, he attached his lips to the left side of her neck. Hands rolling from the side of her hips, to underneath her shirt, feeling the small navel piercing between his fingers and smirking.

“Didn’t take you for being the kind of girl to have a piercing, Mils,” He spoke into her collarbone, a small nip to the sensitive skin as the girl continued to focus on her breathing.

“Piercings, Jack. I have more than one” She breathlessly spoke, knowing exactly what she was doing now. The admission of having more than one piercing that he could not see was all of the consent Jack needed to continue his exploration of her body.

“Are you going to let me see them, darling?”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I’d say I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now, especially in this position.”

She was unsure how it had happened, but Jack had pressed her further into the countertop. With her back still to his chest, his waist was at the perfect height to press into the small of her back. His leg had settled between both of her own and his hands had found the bottom of her bralette and were gently caressing her rib cage, desperate to get closer to where he presumed her other piercing was.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Jack,” she breathed out into the air, hot air escaping her lungs to resemble what she felt brewing in the pit of her stomach. Desire.

“Why the bloody hell not?” he mumbled into her sweet spot, where her jaw met her neck.

“Because I've been here before. This is bad.” With her eyes shut, he continued his way down her neck. The fabric of her top shifted so he could slide one of her straps down her arm.

“If it's bad, why does it feel so good? '' Whilst his lips got to work on her collarbone, and his hand was busy toying with the elastic line of her bralette, his other hand began to fiddle with her fingers. Entwining them with his own, the kind of strength she needed to feel to make her next decisions.

Pushing back off of the counter, meaning her ass had pushed right into the part of his body where he wanted her most, Amelia turned around and faced Jack. The two stood there, slightly panting, staring at each other. Amelia being the kind of girl that she is, decided that she wanted to have a little slice of the dominance pie. Maintaining eye contact, she lifted the bottom of her t-shirt over her head and dropped in on the floor, that second piercing now very clearly visible through the sheer fabric of her bralette.

“Come on Jack, aren’t you an athlete? What’s got you so out of breath? I thought you’d be able to last a little longer than some heavy petting.” She taunted at the smirking man, wanting nothing more than to mess up his hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. That's exactly the position that they found themselves in not more than 5 minutes later, this time upstairs in her bedroom.

Throughout the multiple rounds of passion that the two so-called friends shared that night, not once had their lips touched. Of course, her lips had touched parts of him and he had definitely been all over a completely different set of lips a few times (and from a few different positions), but face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose - their lips had never met. That told Amelia enough to set her anxiety on fire. Had she just gotten involved with a carbon-copy of the man she left behind in Italy?

The regret seeped through her bones and settled into her heart by the time that the Villa boy had fallen asleep next to her. What had she done? This was not the girl Amelia wanted to be anymore. She was done being the girl that was loved only when the lights went out. She wanted love under the sun, she wanted breakfast by the river, double dates, family parties. She wanted the kind of love that you could never try and hide even if you wanted to. She knew that this wasn’t what Jack was able to offer her. She was grateful for their friendship, she truly was, he made her laugh more than most people but for the first time in a very long time, she was certain that that's all she wanted from him.

Part 11. | parte undicesima

[tristinai]

WIP Meme

Tagged by the awesome @mordinette to share some of what I have been working on. Not sure yet if I will do anything with this, tbh. This is a Reed900 fic I have been writing. Takes place October 7th, 2040. After my other fic Russian Roulette. Enjoy :)

Gavin frowns as he scrutinizes his appearance in the bathroom mirror for what feels like the fiftieth time in as many minutes. He gingerly brushes his fingertips against the bit of silver that’s dotting his hairline. Thirty-eight fucking years old. If he’s honest with himself, he’s half-surprised he’s made it this long.

“Don’t see why the fuck we have to go to some uptight, snooty restaurant. Coulda picked any old bar, woulda been just as good, babe,” Gavin grumbles.

In truth, he’s not at all looking forward to spending a night of drinking overpriced champagne and ordering off a menu where he can’t pronounce half the shit on it. If he had it his way, they’d be drinking beers at Finnegan’s with Miller and Chen or spending the night in watching some of the classics. However, with the way things have been between him and Nines lately, he doesn’t want to complain too much, lest he hurt his boyfriend’s feelings.

Nines appears behind him and Gavin catches his boyfriend’s gaze in the mirror. All his displeasure melts away as he sees what the ex-gangster is wearing: the dark suit vest fits snugly on his chest, outlining his pectorals. His powder-blue tie makes his gray eyes look brighter behind his thick glasses and Gavin can already feel the stirrings of desire pool in his abdomen.

Huffing in amusement, Nines forces Gavin to turn around, leans in close enough that the detective catches his familiar cologne, and begins to fix Gavin’s messy tie. “Tonight is a night worth celebrating. I was unable to be with you last year. I want tonight to be...special.”

Nines’ lips pull in a tiny frown and Gavin also feels discomfort at the reminder of how things were between them the year before. He remembers being completely miserable that night, going on month two of life after Nines, and getting completed wasted at a nearby gay bar with Tina. At some point, he ditched her to get his cock sucked by someone whose name he can’t remember and Tina lost her shit on him the next day since she spent the rest of the night trying to find out where the hell he was. He can’t even be sure if he felt shittier about hooking up or for bailing on her but he had to spend the next month getting his best-friend-cred back.

Feeling guilty once again, Gavin forces a grin on his face. “This why you got me all dressed up to the ‘nines’?”

Nines smirks. “I like to think of it as, ‘taking out the trash’.”

“Ouch, babe.”

Pressing in close, Nines grasps Gavin by the hip, noses along the edge of his jaw. The detective’s breath hitches and he can’t help it, is craving more of the ex-gangster’s touch. His pulse racing, he slides a hand up the back of Nines’ neck, exhales shakily when his boyfriend’s lips ghost against his. But the god damn tease doesn’t even try to kiss him, chuckles as he gets Gavin worked up.

“If you are attempting to unwrap your ‘gift’ before we make it out of the penthouse, you will be sorely disappointed,” he says, pulling back when Gavin tries to press their lips together.

Gavin makes a face, tries to tug Nines back closer so he can finally steal that fucking kiss. “C’mon, babe. It’s my god damn birthday! Doesn’t that mean you’re my slave for a day or some shit like that?”

“Is that what you want?” Nines asks, bemused.

“Fucking right it is.”

Nines disentangles himself from Gavin’s embrace. And he laughs. A loud, throaty laugh. Gavin glares at him.

“It is rather endearing that you think in a slave/master role play, I would be the slave.”

“No, not—it’s just a thing people do! Like, you need to be nice to me and shit. And we do whatever the fuck I want because...you know, it’s my birthday.”

“We do whatever it is you want every day,” Nines points out.

No, Gavin thinks, with a hint of bitterness. We actually don’t.

It’s been going on for some time now, this growing rift between them. Gavin can’t pinpoint the moment it started but he recently began to notice that Nines is around a lot less. Random lunch breaks where his boyfriend pops in occur less and less frequently and most days of the week, Gavin’s already snoring away in their bed when Nines finally crawls in beside him. Nines is usually gone before Gavin wakes up and Gavin’s lucky if he gets to spend any part of his evening, or his days off, with the ex-gangster. He doesn’t want to complain, though, because this was the exact reason many of his exes had left him or cheated on him back when he was in his 20s and Gavin doesn’t want to be that kind of asshole who tells his boyfriend to choose between him and his job.

Still...why in the fuck does Nines even give a shit about Cyberlife? After Chloe fucked with both of them, he’d think Nines would want little to do with the company when he can help it. Then again, maybe it’s because of his upgrades that Chloe’s got him by the balls and makes him attend all those press releases and conference calls with her.

When it comes to sex, well, that’s still happening. And it’s still fucking fantastic. But Gavin selfishly wishes he can have more of Nines to himself.

Nines seems to notice the mood Gavin’s slipped into and gently takes him by the hand. “I know I have not been around as much lately. However, after tonight, I hope you will see how serious I am about us, darling.”

Gavin’s gaze drops to where his hand sits in Nines’, the ring we wears glowing yellow. He then stares up at his boyfriend, mystified by what he could possibly mean.

Nines’ phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. “The driver is here.”

“We’re not taking your Aston Martin?”

Damn. Gavin was hoping Nines would let him drive it again, at least before he spends the night tossing back champagne.

“We both intend on drinking tonight so I have made use of company resources.”

“Chloe let you have the limo? You’re really going all out.”

He lets Nines tug him out of the bathroom, his boyfriend lacing their fingers together as he leads them to the elevator. Socks is running across the floor and weaves through Nines’ legs as he chases after a ball he’s flicking around, the bell on his collar chiming. The cyborg makes a face.

“Now I have cat hair on my pants.”

He begins to reach for the lint roller on the stand near the elevator.

“No time, babe.”

Gavin pulls his boyfriend inside with him. Nines attempts to leave but the detective won’t let him. “Gav—”

He kisses him heatedly,  Nines’ protests dying against his lips. Almost immediately, his boyfriend is responding, parting his lips to allow Gavin to slide their tongues together. It’s wet, wanton, and completely filthy and has the detective so hard by the time the elevator reaches the first floor, he has to bite back a whine to go back upstairs and finish what they started.

“We will be late for our reservation,” Nines says, a splash of color on his cheeks. He adjusts himself, even has to take off his fogged up glasses and wipe off the lenses. He’s using his Niles voice now, sounds all him prim and proper. “Come, darling.”

Gavin smirks to himself. He loves mussing up Nines’ hair, doing anything to bring some of his chaos to the cyborg’s perfectly put together appearance. Nines’ vanity is something that hasn’t changed; if anything, with the new, gorgeous face he wears, has the ex-gangster constantly preening since any time he steps out, he might be called in for impromptu press releases or meetings with potential Cyberlife investors.

Gavin’s really gonna have to talk to Chloe about cutting his boyfriend some fucking slack. Not that she would even take his calls. But it’s fucking ridiculous that even tonight, after being assured multiple times Nines has the night off, Gavin still feels anxious that Nines might be called away in the middle of their dinner.

He buries that uncomfortable feeling as they step outside. At least the weather’s nice, with only the hint of a breeze. A white limo sits outside the condominium entrance.

“Good evening, Mr. Deckert!”

“Ralph...” The ex-gangster starts, his tone highly critical. As Ralph practically falls out of the driver’s seat, his hat askew, Nines’ eyes narrow. “Do I want to ask how you ended up in such a state?”

Ralph grins widely, straightens up, and bounces on the balls of his feet. Pieces of colorful confetti stick to his hair and clothing, and streamers curl around his arms and legs as if the poor kid lost an epic fight against a pile of decorations. But it does little to dampen the kid’s mood. If anything, he seems more excitable than usual. “It’s the detective’s birthday! So Ralph helped!”

He all but throws open the door of the limo, smiling from ear-to-ear as Gavin and Nines peer inside. Colorful streamers, confetti, and balloons are strewn haphazardly across the floor and seats in an uncoordinated disaster, an uneven garland that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY already half falling where it is suspended from the roof. The disapproval has Nines glaring incredulously at Ralph, who still looks far too pleased with himself.

“Ralph...”

Gavin hears the dangerous edge in his boyfriend’s voice and knows the ex-gangster is two seconds away from losing his shit on his ‘personal assistant’.

“It’s fucking great!” Gavin says, clapping Ralph’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Best fucking gift I got all day!”

Ralph’s eyes widen and he swears the kid’s almost having a heart attack from receiving such praise. It’s all the warning Gavin has before Ralph’s throwing his arms around the detective and hugging him tightly. Gavin grunts because damn, the kid’s got quite the grip, but then he’s awkwardly hugging Ralph back.

“Ralph knew the detective would like it!”

With an irate sigh, Nines says, “We have a reservation, Ralph.”

Pulling back, Ralph makes a face. Something strikes Gavin very odd about the expression he wears. “Ralph liked RK better before the change.”

...what the fuck does that mean?

Nines’ face is unreadable and Gavin can’t explain it but there’s something almost unsettling about the way the two stare at each other. Then, the ex-gangster’s lips curl in a sneer and he says, with quiet admonishment, “Ralph, you know we do not talk of Cyberlife affairs outside of Cyberlife.”

Ralph looks as if he has more that he wants to say but instead, the kid falls into a quiet anger, shutting the door behind Gavin as he gets in after Nines. Nines makes a show of swiping off confetti from his seat before he settles stiffly onto the leather.

“What the hell was that about?” Gavin asks.

“Ralph is still upset that Chloe had to shut RK down,” Nines says, nonchalantly. “He was strangely attached to that machine.”

His gut is telling him that there’s more to it than that but Gavin notes the way Nines’ hands curl into fists on his lap. Whatever Ralph meant, it’s enough that all the warning signs are there for an argument and it’s one that Gavin’s in no mood to get into, especially when he really doesn’t give a shit about some creepy ass robot. The less of them in the world, the better.

[zestysexmachinefromzanzibar]

Performances and Performances

Thanks for the inspiration from @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake and this gif

186 Stump Street. That was the location she’d been given. As Leigh strolled over in her black pea coat and thigh high boots, she considered not going. It was her first day as an intern at this music hall, and she was nervous. She worried her clumsiness and awkwardness would either embarrass her or get her fired.

As she approached the monster of a building, she did anything she could to calm her nerves. She tried deep breaths, counting breaks in the concrete, talking to herself, but nothing worked. She quickly pulled out a flask and took a swig of the drink she had brought with her. She always kept a small amount on her for times like these. After downing enough to burn her throat slightly, she pulled on the doors, and then she realized it was a push door. Quietly cursing, she felt her face flush. She quickly collected herself and walked in briskly and made her way to the office.

“Ms. Michaels, we’ve been expecting you. Glad to see you.” The boss lady said to her.

“Glad to be here” Leigh lied behind a smile. She was terrified and wanted to be back at home with a mug of apple cider.

“Follow me, I’ll need you to do sound checks for a band performing later tonight. I must warn you, they can be a bit...dramatic” the boss lady warned. They walked down a dank corridor until they reached a small backstage area.

“Start in here, this will be their warmup area. After you finish the sound check, you can tell them that they’re free to have the room.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get right to it.” Leigh nodded and began finding where all the microphones were connected.

“They’re going to eat her alive” the boss lady muttered as she turned heel and walked back to her office, clipboard in hand.

“Finished!” Leigh exclaimed as she concluded her work to the final amplifier. She made her way into the waiting room, where she was shocked to see none other than the legends themselves, Queen.

“Excuse me gentlemen, the practice stage is all set up for you.” Leigh forced herself to look at them, as eye contact with strangers, celebrities no less, was always difficult for her.

“About time!” Roger exclaimed with a smile on his face as he practically ran out of the waiting room.

“Don’t mind him. ROGER! You’d better apologize to this young lady!” Brian screamed after him. The funster was already at his drum kit though, and simply stuck his tongue out at the tall poodle of a man.

“Thank you Miss” John stated simply, and quietly walked out of the room to set up his bass. He looked apologetic for the two who had left before him. All that was left was the tall drink of water with the sultry eyes, at least to her he was.

“Thank you for your hard work darling, I’m sure it’s all perfect” Freddie smiled at the girl. She felt her face flush as she looked down at her gray sweater and mini skirt.

“Please, let me know if I can help anymore or if something isn’t right. I promise I’ll fix it in a jiffy!” Leigh said, a little too enthusiastically. She immediately internally cursed herself for her awkwardness.

Freddie chuckled at her comment “I’ll keep that in mind. What’s your name again dear?” Freddie inquired with a smile, and nearly half lidded eyes. Leigh was mesmerized, and could barely think with those beautiful chocolate pools staring back at her.

“L-Leigh. My name is Leigh” she finally stammered out.

“Leigh” Freddie repeated. Leigh felt herself get slightly light headed as she watched the man slip past her and join the others. She couldn’t help but admire him as he walked. Those shoulders, that backside...

“Leigh!” A familiar voice called out, breaking her from her trance.

“Aston, what are you doing here?” Leigh asked. It was her best friend and drummer of their band, the Knee High Trio. Aston was always...essentric to say the least.

“Well, you remember how I said I was going to be working with a famous band? I’M THEIR NEW HAIRSTYLIST! Well, for tonight anyway.”

“That’s great Aston! I just did the sound checks. I wasn’t expecting to see you here” Leigh commented. She was always happy to see her friend, but with her friend came antics. She pondered what tonight might have in store for her, especially now that Aston was here.

“Since we won’t be needed for a little bit, let’s grab dinner. I’m starving!” Aston said, and grabbed Leigh by the arm, towing her outside to the nearest food cart.

“And that’s everything that I’ve done since our last gig” Aston finished her story. The girls decided to bring their pita wraps back into the music hall and in the waiting room. Aston had barely taken three bites of her wrap due to how much she talked, Leigh on the other hand had finished hers ten minutes ago.

“Well, I worked a little as a waitress at that restaurant where you danced on the table” Leigh began.

“Well, what happened?” Aston asked as Leigh turned red.

“I brought the customer their food and accidentally tripped and it fell all on him. He chewed me out to the manager and he fired me on the spot.” Leigh told Aston. She was humiliated, and Aston knew her friend needed a little cheering up.

“I got an idea. Let’s go watch Queen get ready for their gig.”

“WHAT?!?! Aston we can’t do that! It’s like a total invasion of their privacy!” Leigh exclaimed in utter terror. “Besides, it’s against protocol”

“Oh come on, Leigh. Live a little. We’ll stay in the wings, they won’t see us. It’ll be like our own private concert! And don’t think I didn’t see you checking out Freddie.” Leigh blushed as bright as a strawberry at those words. Aston looked at her with a mischievous smile.

“Do you think he noticed?” Leigh asked quietly, afraid that the walls had ears.

“Nah, he had his back turned. I’m just looking forward to messing with Roger’s hair.” Aston gleamed and then twirled around in glee.

“His hair looks like he’s done nothing but have sex for three days” Leigh noted. “Besides, it’s not like anyone’s gonna be able to see him in this lighting.”

“I’ll see him. And I intend to make sure he keeps that look” Aston quipped. Leigh shook her head and smiled.

“Come on!” Aston said as she grabbed Leigh’s hand and dragged her toward the stage.

Being stealthy to try not to be seen, they crept to the edge of the wings. The band had just began a new song, and Leigh couldn’t believe she was this close to near royalty. She watched Freddie with wonder and near lust as he strutted across the stage.

Freddie moved with grace as he sang his heart out. He moved towards a pole that was positioned near the front of the stage. Before she knew it, Freddie was essentially pole dancing right next to her. She covered her mouth and tried not to blush, but she couldn’t help it. Freddie looked to his left and saw a frustrated Leigh barely keeping it together. He wondered how long she had been standing there. He made it a point to grind on the pole while looking her dead in the eye. He wasn’t called a sex machine for nothing. Leigh watched as she couldn’t look away from the blatant show of sexuality in front of her. After the band finished their song Freddie spoke loudly.

“Alright. That’s enough. Dinner break boys. Be back in time for the show! Be punctual darlings!” Aston took the opportunity to follow Roger out. Roger casually placed his arm around her waist as they walked away. Freddie walked toward the wings once everyone had left. Leigh looked at the ground as he came over. She couldn’t find any words to say to him and was too embarrassed to move.

“Did you enjoy what you heard?” He asked feigning innocence.

“You guys are amazing!” Leigh managed to say. She looked up at the man, and saw lust in his dark brown eyes. She figured she must be looking at him in a similar manner.

“Did you like what you saw?” He quipped. Leigh simply looked at the ground and tried to find words.

“You’re more than welcome to stick around for a...private showing if you want” Freddie said. Leigh’s eyes shot up and looked at Freddie with her deer-in-headlights look.

“Are you sure Mr. Mercury?”

“Please darling, call me Freddie.”

“Freddie...” she breathed.

“I’m more than sure darling. Come a little closer and I’ll show you everything I can” Freddie grabbed her hand lightly and pulled her out onto the stage with him. They came up to the pole he had been previously dancing on.

“I get carried away by the music sometimes. But it’s nice to see that people enjoy watching me dance” Freddie said as he swung around the pole.

“Freddie, I don’t know what to say.”

“How about coming back to my dressing room then. Words won’t be necessary after your answer” Freddie said. He moved closer to Leigh until he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Absolutely” she answered and followed him into his dressing room.

“FREDDIE! IT’S TIME TO DO YOUR HAIR!” Aston cried for the tenth time.

“Not now please, come back later!” She heard him scream through the door.

“SHOW STARTS IN A HALF HOUR!” She screamed.

“Alright, thank you!” She heard him scream back. Aston was about to turn around and huff back to Roger’s room when she heard female giggles coming from Freddie’s room. Aston swore it sounded like Leigh. Coming to this realization, she booked it back to Roger’s room until a few minutes before the show.

The show went off without a hitch. Aston and Leigh watched from the wings of the stage.

“Leigh...” Aston said inquisitively, “is that a hickey?”

“What? No!” Leigh said as she quickly placed her hand on her neck. “Just a bruise. Why do you look like you’ve had sex for three days?” Leigh retorted. Aston looked at her and simply smiled. Leigh looked at Roger and noted his seemingly flawless sex hair. She didn’t dare ask more questions. Tonight definitely was the best night of Leigh’s life so far. She couldn’t wait for work again tomorrow.

[chameleon-cryptid]

♻️ Rhyan

Rhyan from another universe (it’s going to be ours) or timeline (two time lines here).  Warnings for homophobia, implied drug use, and implied skankery: 

(whoops, this turned out really long and I didn’t proof read it. OH WELL)

_______________

“Oh look.Here he comes. The fag with his flute. I bet you like playing the skin flute too.”

“You know you’re going to hell, Rhyan. God hates fags!”

What did these jerks know about hell. For Rhyan, he was in it already. The halls of his highschool were lined with demons who seemed content on making this his own living hell. There wasn’t a day that went by where he wasn’t taunted, beat, or otherwise humiliated and ridiculed for who he was. He ignored it most of the time, but for some reason, it got to him today. He took off, running, trying to get to the place where he knew he was safe. Where he wasn’t a fag or a fairy. Where he was respected. 

He only stopped when he got to the musical instrument storage room in the music wing. The tears were already there though as he stormed in to the room, full of other students. Concerned voices reached out to him, but he wasn’t hearing them properly. 

“Rhyan? Are you okay?”

“Are those guys fucking with you again?”

“I’m going to go tell Mr. Aston. Those guys should be expelled.”

In the back of his mind, he heard that and shook his head, wiping away tears. “No...no I’m fine.”

He was always fine. Never reported it. He didn’t want to be trouble. His father would argue that kids bully each other and that his youngest son should man up, maybe throw a punch out if someone was bothering him. Rhyan theorised that if his father had been a classmate of his, he’d be one of the ones bullying him. It hurt. Suddenly, though, his vision was full of blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Fuck those guys, Rhyan. Or rather don’t. You’re way too good-looking for them. Want me to shove my snare right up their asshole?” 

Rhyan blushed. Mike was section leader of the percussion section, president of the marching band, and generally just a wonderful person. He was liked by everyone, attractive, smart. Rhyan had a bit of a crush on him, but then ...so did Mike’s girlfriend.

“No..I’m fine, Mike. Really I am.”

“Well...seriously though, fuck those guys. You’re the best musician in this school, best singer. What have those shits ever done. Like...their biggest accomplishment is probably kissing their cousins behind the shed at the family reunion. Fucking backwards, inbred hicks. Forget about them. You’ll have the last laugh someday when you’re famous.” The blonde teenager grinned, patting Rhyan’s forearm a bit harder than Rhyan would’ve liked but he realised the guy didn’t know his own strength.

Rhyan hoped MIke was right. Maybe one day. If he practised really hard. 

*********

Rhyan lounged in his hotel suite on a couch, eyes closed, shirtless, slightly drunk, amidst the chatter and noise of groupies and fans, makeup artists, roadies, PAs, lackeys, and techies. He’d just finished another sold out show and was still basking in the glow of the applause. He was vaguely aware that someone beautiful had slithered up beside him and was leaning provocatively toward him. Opening his eyes, his vision is met with a gorgeous young man, dark hair, pale eyes, tanned skin. Rhyan couldn’t help but smirk.

“Well, hello there.” He says to the unfamiliar face. Ah, the joy of groupies.

He was just about to get to know this particular person a little better when one of the members of security walked up. “Sorry, Mr. Charm. Coupla guys out here say they know you from marching band and highschool. Asked if they could come say hello.”

Rhyan reluctantly extracted his tongue from the groupie’s mouth and leaned back sighing. He was quiet for a moment, a little peeved at being interrupted. But if they were friends from marching band, he should see them. After all, they were his only comfort growing up. He nods finally. 

“Okay, show them in.” he said and turned back to look at the man beside him for a brief moment while the security guard went off to fetch the guys. “I’ll talk to you again in a couple minutes. You know, I always stay in this hotel when I tour here. The bathrooms have incredibly large tubs.”

The groupie grinned. He got the hint, standing and heading off toward the bathroom, throwing a coy look over his shoulder. Rhyan grinned watching him but then got distracted by the sight of his backup guitarist accidentally dumping a bunch of cocaine on the floor. 

“For fuck’s sake, Joe, if you can’t even manage to get the coke up your nose, maybe it’s time to call it a night.” He complained, though he was ignored except for being flipped off. He laughed a little bit as security showed up with his supposed former friends.

Rhyan froze. These weren’t friends from marching band. They were his bullies. The guys who made his four years of highschool a living hell. He stared up at these men, and suddenly he was fifteen again, running through the halls, crying his eyes out.

“Rhyan...hey. Do you...do you remember us? We went to highschool together.” One of them said.

“We really love your latest album. I mean, everyone knew in highschool you were gonna be big. Didn’t you win Most Musical for our graduating class?”

“Oh yeah, he didn’t didn’t he? Remember you sang the national anthem for the football games. You remember us, right. Chad and Tim. God, this is a fucking awesome party.” The first prattled on.

Rhyan was motionless, staring at the two as they tried to get Rhyan to acknowledge that he knew them. He dug his fingernails into his knees and clenched his jaw. How dare they. How dare they come and encroach on his territory. Those guys who used to make a big deal about even sitting in a seat he used for fear of ‘getting AIDS from the homo’. Rhyan was livid. But he was a performer. So he smiled. 

“Of course I remember you two. What sort of business are you in now?” He asked congenially.

“Oh, Chad here works in construction. Excavator operator and I got a job Benton Foundary.” Tim said. 

Rhyan nodded. “You guys married? Got any kids.”

Chad nods, smiling sheepishly. “Two kids. Not married anymore, but...well, single life eh!” he says gesturing around to the party.

Rhyan laughed a little. “Ah, yeah, it’s a good life.”

Tim nods enthusiastically eyeing a groupie in a lewdly appraising manner. “Yeah, single life.” He was wearing a wedding ring. 

Rhyan gave them a bit of a Look. Sure Rhyan was promiscuous, but he was at least honest about it. 

“It really is a good life. A great life.” Rhyan continued. “My life, it is fucking fantastic.” His voice was raising a bit, carrying through the room as more and more people at the party listened. People always listened to him. You didn’t get to be lead singer of an incredibly successful rock band if people didn’t want to listen to you.

“Amazing, life. I’ve got three houses, you know? One in California, one in London, and one down in the Caribbean. I’ve got ten cars. Though cars have never really been my thing. I like the motorbikes better. My accountant keeps telling me to stop buying them..but...” he shrugs, standing. “my willpower for something sporty and fast is non-existent...”

“I’ve stayed in the fanciest hotels, eaten at the best restaurants, and gone to the most exclusive clubs on earth. Met celebrities, royalty, politicians. And at one point...” He steps forward then, gesturing with his hands as the two men watch him frowning, only now realising that Rhyan’s making a point. “...at one point, I looked around at my lavish lifestyle and said...what am I doing with myself. All this wealth and I’m not giving back. So I started donating to charities. Lending my name, my voice, my image to charities that help combat bullying toward gay, lesbian, transgender teenagers. To find them support. Did you buy my album? Attend any of my shows? Some of those proceeds went toward that charity. So thanks guys. Not only did you inspire my charitable work, but you contributed to it, too.” he was nearly shouting now.

The room was a bit quiet then. Most of the partiers had no clue what was going on and why Rhyan was ranting at them. But from the back of the suite, a voice rang out. 

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” The percussionist from Rhyan’s band cried out. In a moment, Mike was at Rhyan’s side, pointing at the two men. “Fuck those guys, Rhyan! They made your life fucking hell in highschool. Fuck them.”

Chad recognised the man, eyes widening. “Mike. Hey..come on buddy. We were kids. Boys will be boys, eh?”

MIke threw out a punch. A hard one. Right at Chad’s face. The man crumpled to the ground holding his nose. Rhyan’s eyes widenend and he covered his mouth with his hand, shocked at the splatter of blood that came out of the punch. 

“Miserable fucks” Mike said as Chad cradled his face and Tim just looked shocked. “Get these assholes out of here.” Mike said to the security guard who radioed for assistance before dragging the two out. 

Rhyan was still stunned as Mike shook out his bruised hand, frowning a bit and muttering something about suing if he’s broken it over that asshole’s nose.

“Mike..they’re gonna go to the press. You’ll get arrested for assault!” he said in a panicked voice.

“Please, battery at the most.” He gave a horned symbol with his fingers ironically. “Rock star life, yeah?” He said then ambled back across the room to his wife who was most definitely looking a little unimpressed muttering about how security could have taken care of the guys. 

Rhyan took a deep breath. He was definitely glad he wasn’t completely sober, otherwise he might’ve been freaking out now, on the phone to his publicist, making sure she could fix it. 

“Rhyan, are you coming? I ..met a friend on the way to the bathroom and we thought you were coming to join us.” The dark haired groupie from earlier called out from the bathroom door while a blonde one poked his head out too. “Look, I know you’re a rockstar and all and used to people doing whatever you say, but we’re gonna start without you if you don’t hurry up.” The blonde said with a challenging little smirk. Fiesty. Rhyan liked it. 

Rhyan smiled a little. “Sorry fellas.” he said and made his way over to bathroom, but not before looking over to Mike who was looked like he was being berated by his wife. He caught his best friend’s eyes and smiled his thanks to him. Mike in return nodded then gave the horned finger symbol again, mouthing ‘rock star life’ back at him. 

Rhyan grinned and chuckled. He loved his life, and in the end, Mike was right. He had had the last laugh.

[another-writer]

Begin Again: Chapter 2

I got really amazing feedback on part one so thanks so much for that! I hope you guys like this next chapter xx

Part 1 Part 3 Word count: 1,967 Warnings: one or two curse words (Tags at the end)

Your eyes fluttered open around five o’clock in the morning and no matter how hard you tried (by tossing and turning relentlessly), you couldn’t fall back asleep. You watched, defeated, as your room was flooded with the colours of the sunrise, going from pink to purple and then a pale yellow.

Around eleven, you could no longer ignore the nagging feeling that told you staying in bed wasn’t productive, so you changed into sweats and a t-shirt and decided to go for a drive. Your motorcycle, the very same one that you kept upgrading, was in Tony’s garage.

When you reached, you saw Bucky standing by a freshly-polished Aston Martin DB9 rubbing the back of his neck the same way he had when first meeting you. The bonnet was open and a mess of tools was around his feet.

‘Need some help?’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Bucky jumped and turned around to face you.

‘Oh, hey,’ he breathed.

You waited for him to respond, lips quirking into an amused smile.

‘Oh,’ he realised, ‘no, I - I’m fine, I just -’

‘Have no idea what you’re doing?’ you finished for him.

Bucky blushed and you were worried that you had gone too far.

‘Here,’ you said a little more gently, holding your hand out prompting him to hand over the wrench in his hand. ‘Tony likes to mess around with his toys, it’s only a matter of time before we suffer the consequences.’

Bucky was rubbing his left arm nervously. ‘Yeah, I, er, I haven’t really had to fix a car like this before. Combining the fact that I’m out of touch with certain twenty-first century tech along with … well, Stark, it’s … it’s hard.’

‘I can imagine,’ you agreed. ‘Or, I can’t but I guess that’s the point.’

Bucky leaned against the front of the car and watched you work for a while; his grey-blue eyes flickered with something you didn’t recognise along with the inevitable caution he always carried and the amused wit that seemed to break out in small intervals. You made a purpose of not looking at him while you worked, knowing that any eye contact would make you forget what your name was, let alone figure out what kind of weird upgrade Stark had made to his car. 

‘So how do you know this stuff?’ he asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

You looked up briefly from adjusting the distributor cable. ‘Fixing a car?’ You didn’t want to degrade Bucky or make him feel stupid, but cars were part of the mechanics’ more simple work.

‘Everything,’ he corrected. ‘Your knowledge rivals Tony’s.’

You don’t know why but Bucky’s comment made your stomach feel … weird.

Well, Tony did teach me,’ you shrugged, putting your nerves aside. ‘Plus, I’m studying mechanical engineering in NYU. I used to help my dad out a lot when I was a kid, he was obsessed with revamping old models and he taught me a lot … When I was seventeen I upgraded that bike over there,’ you gestured to the Bonneville briefly. ‘Stark gave me an internship when I was in high school.’

Bucky smirked but it faded quickly. ‘Tony’s a good guy,’ he mused.

You nodded. ‘He puts on a facade but I think he likes to surround himself with people that care about him. I think he needs it.’

Bucky’s expression was pale. ‘I figured. I think that’s why he and Steve fell out so bad; I also think it’s why he welcomed us back in.’

Having finished your work, you tentatively closed the bonnet and faced Bucky, watching him slowly crumble under the weight of his thoughts. As much as you loved Tony, it hurt just as badly to watch Bucky haunt himself with memories of a life he never intended to live.

A man out of time now living another form of his second life. The mere idea made your head spin.

‘Not to push my boundaries,’ you began quietly, ‘but none of that was your fault. Tony wants things to be right with you. I know you’re not friends and I know he’s not good with confronting his feelings but … if you’re ever ready to talk to him, I think he would listen.’

You thought Bucky would shut down and end the conversation there. His car was fixed, he could go wherever he wanted. Except he didn’t and instead he looked at you sadly and you saw more emotion in his eyes in that moment than you had for the past two weeks.

He looked so broken. And it was annoying because it wasn’t like you could pick up the right-sized wrench or adjust a couple of screws, this was emotional and irrational and you weren’t quite sure how you could help.

‘Things are gonna be okay,’ you found yourself saying. ‘New arm, new you.’

Bucky snorted and shook his head at you, smiling softly. ‘Thanks, and I don’t want to sound dramatic, but I think it’s going to take some time to get over what’s happened, especially now that I’m living with other people.’

‘What was it like in Bucharest?’ you asked.

‘A lot simpler,’ Bucky admitted. ‘I was alone so it was easier for me to understand that I would have to deal with the consequences of my past alone. But Steve had gotten to me and I knew he was out there, so it was lonely.’

‘Easier?’ you asked.

‘Not really,’ Bucky responded. ‘Less painful, I figured, for the people who I’d hurt to stay under the radar.’

You frowned. ‘Do you still believe that?’

Bucky bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think so,’ he decided.

‘For what it’s worth,’ you began, ‘and I’m not trying to degrade your past to something so simple, but honestly, screw HYDRA.’

Bucky knitted his eyebrows in confusion. Of all the things that had been said to him, screw HYDRA was definitely the strangest.

‘You’re … you’re awesome, okay?’ you said firmly. ‘HYDRA tried to turn you into their poster boy - this eternal weapon by pumping you with their serum and keeping you alive, only for you to escape and use your life to fight back against them and everything they’ve ever stood for - not to mention that you’re doing so alongside Captain America who happens to be the golden boy HYDRA’s been trying to destroy since 1943. You’re basically giving HYDRA the world’s biggest middle finger right now.’

Bucky was looking at you like … you weren’t sure how to describe it. But you could feel your heart racing from your outburst and just being around Bucky alone was making it beat faster anyway, let alone the way he was looking at you.

Bucky laughed; it was gentle but deep and it reached his eyes, making them brighter and crinkles to form around them. You vowed that you were going to make him laugh like that as much as you could.

‘Using an arm that’s a much better model than their crappy attempt?’ he chuckled.

‘Of course,’ you snorted.

Bucky breathed out, the smile never leaving his face. ‘No one’s ever told me anything like that before,’ he muttered. ‘I actually think I needed to hear that.’

You hunched your shoulders, handing the wrench back to him. ‘I’m happy to help.’

Bucky stepped backwards towards the car, fiddling with the wrench. ‘This reminds me of home,’ he said.

You studied him. ‘I’m insulted; how many other women would you get to fix your shit?’

Bucky chuckled. ‘Back during the war, all the women would be in the factories making our artillery and tanks and armour and the men would just … go out and get all that stuff destroyed as we fought our cause.’

‘Well, you’re here,’ you said, ‘so don’t break anything, I put an entire half an hour’s worth of work into that.’

‘Oh, you must be exhausted.’

‘I am. You owe me one,’ you teased.

Bucky pointed at you with the wrench. ‘I’m a man of my word,’ he said seriously.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch because you and Bucky just started to gravitate towards each other. If you were working in the lab, Bucky would sit with you, sometimes bringing snacks or assisting you (or eating snacks and watching you slave over fixing particularly bad damage to War Machine’s suit). When you were hanging out with everyone else, you and Bucky always ended up next to each other; sometimes you would whisper taunts about Tony and he would retaliate by mocking Sam.

Things were comfortable with Bucky, which may have seemed odd because the man was flickering between a panic-stricken veteran suffering from infrequent night terrors and a twenty-something well-humoured man. Sometimes the man that Steve had described to you would peek through the cracks in Bucky’s walls, the wit, the charming smile that reached his eyes … Other times you sat with Bucky while he was on lock down, running your hand through his hair and coaxing him back to Earth.

‘I keep having these nightmares,’ he breathed in the humid air on the balcony. ‘Stuff like falling off that goddamn train and Steve right up there looking like he’s about to follow me down …’

‘Breathe, Barnes,’ you warned gently.

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, scanning the expanse of the city in front of him. ‘I hate that I still get scared by it all,’ he murmured. ‘It’s been three years since I got away from it and all I can think about is being dragged through the snow to that compound, or being strapped in that chair –‘

‘Hey,’ you interrupted gently, nudging his arm. ‘It’s okay.’

‘I have to get over it.’

‘Barnes, you can’t diminish what happened to you.’

‘I’ve had plenty of time to mourn.’

‘So what if you need more?’ you asked rhetorically. ‘Not everyone thinks they’ll die from falling off a moving train, only to be kept alive by HYDRA of all things.’

Bucky winced; his grip on the railing tightened.

You pursed your lips sadly. No matter how much you wanted for Bucky to feel as normal or safe as possible, you also knew that it was legitimate for him to take his time. ‘Have you forgiven yourself, Barnes?’

Bucky huffed. ‘People keep telling me that none of what I did was my fault and I get it …’

You waited again. ‘But?’ you barely whispered.

Bucky’s eyes softened and he clenched his jaw momentarily. ‘I got away and I wish I did sooner.’

‘Steve never met you sooner,’ you said softly. ‘Turns out you needed that push to get away, there’s nothing wrong with that.’

Bucky looked at you sadly and leaned closer to you so that his arm touched yours, like the small amount of contact was keeping him grounded.

‘It’s not that,’ he murmured, staring ahead at the skyline, illuminated by amber streetlights and billboards against the pre-dawn sky. ‘Sometimes I wonder if there’s someone else out there who has some other kind of control over me; I dunno, one day we’ll storm a base or get infiltrated and one of those people are gonna say something else and I’ll hurt everyone again.’

You didn’t know what to say, so you leaned gently against Bucky’s arm, acting like a physical reminder that you were with him. Hopefully the thought would ease him.

Bucky took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t told that to anyone else,’ he murmured. ‘Steve would do something stupid and everyone would worry that I’ll go haywire.’

You frowned playfully. ‘I have just as an effective mother mode as Rogers does, Bucky, don’t underestimate me.’

There was a brief flash of humour across Bucky’s face but it quickly diminished, making your heart drop.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ you said more seriously. ‘We haven’t known each other long but I’m glad you trust me.’

Tags:  @hedakylo​ @lauraonly​ @mytasterpeculiar​ @wefracturedmotivation @eternal-queen

[ivyglow]

I don’t want you like a best friend - Andre Burakovsky

A/n: Sooo, I wrote this as some kind of gift to my best friend because she loves Andre and she was trying to get me on his train (I guess she did?). She’s always hitting me with “no but you should definitely write about Tito/Andre”. Here’s your piece @skarsgardswiftie​ I hope you like it! <3 I love you sm Also, a huge shout out to @sebs-aston​ for proofreading this with such an attentive eye! You’re amazing, liv! 

Requested: yes / no

Word count: 1.9k 

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol 

Summary: you’re friends with Andre, but things are about to change after you create a TikTok account and start doing challenges that may lead to news between you and your favorite hockey player.

When it comes to capturing a moment you’re usually the person your friends think about, not simply because you’re always carrying a camera -mainly because of it-, but because you’re great with what you do -either photos or videos-. That’s also why your Instagram profile has more followers than an ordinary girl would and it’s the only place people can find you -besides e-mail-. However, that changed when your best friend -Callie- convinced you to create a TikTok account. You, of course, hated it, but she had the perfect opportunity -you were a bit tipsy, all your friends around, sunny weekend and so it goes. 

“Mikko, do you think I’m pretty?” You direct the camera to his face while looking expectantly. 

Saturday evening rolled around, the hot weather forcing your friends either to the inside of the pool or under the sunshade and their hands busy with cold drinks. It was a happy day, everyone was around, and you were enjoying the vacation. You had met half of the Hockey team as soon as you moved to Colorado and Erik, your and your brother’s hometown best friend decided you needed to know his crew and the city around. Six months later and you knew pretty much everyone and everything.

“Of course I think you’re pretty” he gives you a confused look before you turn to Tyson giggling.

“Josty, do you think I’m pretty?” you ask and he looks straight at the camera “I would give you 5 out of 10 cause you’re bro.”

You laugh and turn to Andre this time.

“Andre, do you think I’m pretty?” 

He seems taken aback by the question and unlike Tyson, he stares at you. “Of course you’re pretty.”

You keep to your task and last but not least is Nathan, he’s sitting at a table while working on some drinks and you take him by surprise by jumping in front of him. “Mac, do you think I’m pretty?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention to you for some seconds before looking at his drink again, “I would one hundred percent date you if you were not my sisters’ best friend” 

And then your time is over. 

“So you’re a tiktoker now?” Erik sits beside you and Nathan just as you uploaded the video. He raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes lightly, “you know I hate TikTok, but it’s fun, so…”

“She’s gonna end up famous there too”, Andre announces leaning his body on the table and motioning for Nathan to refill his drink. Your eyes roam on his big hands grasping the red cup, his cheeks red from the sun, and the way you could see his dimples when he smiled at you, his hair messy in a cute way. 

“Why do you think that?” now he has three pairs of curious eyes staring at him.

You almost chuckled when his point finger scratched his chin. His skin glowing, “I mean, you’re funny and cute…cute girls get famous on TikTok” he reasoned. 

“Is this your best, Burki?” Erik asks and for the way his lips were tight against each other you knew he wanted to laugh.

“C’mon, let them be,” Nathan said after giving the blond American a new cup, and before you could ask what was the matter Callie was calling you at the door. 

Your best friend started a rant about how she was going to get Chinese take-out for dinner and when you told her she should get Thai too -because it was Andre’s favorite- she started another rant about how you should tell him you’re in love and how it was cute the way you two functioned but also annoying. All you could do was savor your drink and mentally play a Taylor Swift song while she went on, “I mean it, y/n! Just tell him already…”

“Have you seen Andre?!” you whisper-scream to her and Callie sights rolling her eyes, “what about him?” 

Swallowing the last sip of your drink you start to draw doodles on the glass with your fingers, “I’m just y/n, he’s Andre Burakovsky”. You usually were not insecure about your looks, but it was Andre, and the fact that he was a famous and good-looking hockey player made you question how in heavens he would like you back. Hell, you were not even sure how you two ended up in such a close friendship, he always being so affectionate and listening to everything you had to say. Your friendship seemed like the most you could take from the interaction. You knew he was ‘just Andre’ too when all your friends were gathered, but being ‘just Andre’ was as amazing as being Andre Burakovsky the hockey player. 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, y/n, and I don’t mean considering only your looks, but everything. You’re funny, smart, and always so attentive with everyone, you listen to everything and always have nice things to say, don’t you ever doubt your value, you hear me?” Callie’s words make you sit up straight in the stall and your eyes water. 

“In my defense, this is not me crying, this is tipsy me having an emotional moment”, you joke and it’s seconds before the two of you are laughing the way you used to during a John Mulaney show. 

…

It was night when you unlocked your phone only to find a bunch of notifications from TikTok, some of the comments from fans about how happy the boys seemed, but most were about the way Andre looked at you when you asked the question. According to the most liked comment “this is clearly a friends to lovers, mutual pining, unaware love and slow-burn situation” which made you giggle but also replay the video a dozen times trying to figure out if there was really something there and you were the unaware one. 

Needless to say, you weren’t able to reach a conclusion, but it felt different when you excused yourself to take a shower after spilling wine in your shirt and you felt Andre’s eyes on you all the way to the stairs. His hands on your shoulders felt heavier and the way he was attentive whenever you needed a refill or wanted a bite of food seemed more intimate and caring than ever.

Hitting the shuffle button, you chose your Taylor Swift playlist before entering the shower. The cold water cooled you off a bit, it was almost like washing out part of the alcohol in your system, but your tipsy mind kept finding evidence that Andre liked you back. 

You went through your clothes finding a floral summer dress and sipping on your wine while brushing your hair. Your body was still feeling hot and at this point, you didn’t know if it was from the sun on your face or the alcohol in your system, but when you heard the first notes of “Dress” playing you knew you were going to do something stupid, especially because your cell phone was one arm away. If someone asked you where the idea came from you wouldn’t know what to answer, and usually thinking about how you didn’t have an answer was enough to make you give up on some stupid ideas...not this one though. 

Reaching for your phone you unlocked it and walked to the body-length mirror in the room you were sharing with Callie. It took less than 2 minutes to snap a picture and send it to him and it took him less than 1 minute to answer it.

‘Woah’

‘You liked it?’ you sent back

‘Yeah, you’re looking good, cutie’ he answered just as fast, before sending a red heart emoji.

‘I don’t want you like a friend’

‘and I only bought this dress so you could take it off’

It was the exact line Taylor was singing when you reached the send button. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing and your body sobered up even more than before. 

“Fuck!” you almost voiced. How would he look at you after this? Could you pretend you confused him with someone else? Of course not, he was the only Andre you knew! And everyone knew better you were not the bold flirty type.

That was it, your secret was spilled just like your wine on your shirt earlier, but now you wouldn’t be able to clean off the stain. 

Would he believe it if you told him it was a prank to your new TikTok account?

You were lost in your thoughts before three knocks on your door startled you. And there he was when you pushed the door open. Standing with his hands inside his pockets and his hair still messy, he stared at you. It took maybe five minutes before he spoke, but it felt like an eternity considering his intense eyes studying you.

“You’re looking even better this close” for some reason his voice is low like he didn’t want anyone to hear and pop the bubble of the moment. 

You feel your body getting hotter, pretty sure your face is turning even redder, so you reach your hands to both of your cheeks. That gets a giggle out of Andre and you instantly move them to your back, your eyes now staring at his bare feet. 

All you wanted to do was bury yourself on a rabbit hole until Andre lost his memory, or you lost yours. You were thinking about the possibility of a secret society -Alice in Wonderland style- inside the rabbit hole that you could live in forever when Burki extended his hand, his palm facing you, silently asking you to put your hand in his. So you did. And it was only a blink of an eye before his body was closer, almost touching yours.

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” he questioned. 

You shook your head no and he moved his hand to your waist as a message that maybe -and only maybe- he wanted to be close too. So you moved your right one to his large shoulders. 

“I’m glad you’re not drunk…” 

“I’m just a bit hot and bothered” and dying out of shame! You screamed inside your head. 

“Oh sure you are”, he replied with a small smile playing at the corner of his pink lips. Your brows raised in confusion and before you could ask, he answered, “hot. You’re hot”.

“Does it mean you’re gonna take my dress off?” you have no idea when you got so bold, but Andre seemed amused with everything. 

“No, not tonight. You’re not drunk, but you’re a bit tipsy, I don’t want to start things like this” his fingers are in your cheekbone and you lean into him. “I’m gonna kiss you though, can I?” 

His lips, so different from his hands, were soft and hot. They found yours timidly, exploring the space while his body welcomed yours closer, he took his time before his fingers were in your hair and his tongue caught your lips. 

It felt good.

Like never before. 

For some seconds you wished to be able to capture the moment and save it forever. Repeat it in your head every day. 

Andre played with the strings of your dress, slipping it off your shoulders and you got into your tiptoes to peck his lips one last time. 

“So...I take you really liked the dress?” 

“I actually like you, the dress is a bonus” he shrugs and you giggle before finding yourself wrapped in another kiss.