"You're insane!" she yelled, slamming the door behind her. I instantly whirled around, clutching two cigarettes and a wine bottle. "You can't go around telling people shit like that!" "Yes, I'm insane! I'm fucking crazy! But everything I do is because of you." I closed the distance between us with just a few steps. Dropping the wine bottle by my feet, which shattered into a million pieces and flooded the white carpet, I placed both of my hands on her cheeks. She was too stunned to move, obviously not expecting that outbreak. Glass protruded from my exposed foot and dug into Andrea's legs but we didn't notice. The stinging pain didn't exist. It was just us, this moment, this feeling- this amazingly, suffocating feeling. It was just us. The cigarette smoke was curling around her ear as I stared at her. "You make me crazy. But I love being crazy because it's you that makes me that way. You make me absolutely insane, but I love you. So please, just let me love you because I don't know what I'd do without my crazy."

A terribly stubborn, mildly (at best) egotistical man happens to meet a girl just as hard headed as he is, who can't help but bite every time he fishes for attention. "Don't set me a challenge if you aren't prepared to have it beaten."

Wary of the decadence and skewed morals that her burgeoning music career might impose upon her, Joanna feels out of place at the rite-of-passage Notting Hill party her new manager has invited her to, until she encounters Matty - practically an old hand in the business, but sweetly untouched by their strange surroundings. The instincts and values Joanna used to cling to don't guide her now as well as they used to, and as the venues get bigger and the radio plays rack up, it becomes increasingly difficult to know what her friendship with Matty is really about. 'My ability to stay awake was waning, and I could feel myself dropping off, the darkness and warmth enveloping me. But somewhere in that liminal space, between consciousness and a blank stupor, I vaguely registered a hand finding mine across the sheets, fingers interlinking and holding it there, in the space between our faces.' (((* = mature content))) COMPLETED 19/11/20.

'Death? In every photograph?' 'Well, every portrait...' ~ Alma takes photographs at parties, at her studio and for prestigious commissions. She's critically respected and highly sought after, but her photographs are only meant to capture a transient moment - there can be no messy entanglements, no interplay of emotions. But Alma and Matty are utterly fascinated by each other, against their better judgement. So when she takes his photograph, what is she really capturing? And what is she taking for herself? PLEASE NOTE - this story is pretty kinky and there is mature content all the way through, although chapters with explicit sex scenes will be marked with an asterisk*. CW for discussions of eating habits, nothing disordered but would rather give the warning than not. Part Two coming soon...