#( sonja just loves to be a tease i tell ya )

[edgymuses-a]

continue this  𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙼𝙰𝙽’𝚂 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝚈    (  @hiredassault     /   𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫  )       :  

     ༶ ﾟ🥀 ┄─   Taking off the armor was like opening a gift on Christmas, laying witness to the goodies: a pair of large breasts which bounced once the armor bra was off and a voluptuous yet athletic body that he couldn’t resist but to lay massive hands around her waist. The roughness of the assassin's hands causes a small chuckle to be let out and eyes of lustful hunger glance down at those hands and back to him. Returning the grin she too grinned as two hands rested on a clothed chest, just wanting to rip them off. Sonja just loved when the man she came to know as Floyd, would be so daring and knows how to make the warrior go rampant on desire.  ❛❛ Good idea. ❜❜  The response, breathy, lips of ruby collided with the man’s own. A hand that was on the tree trunk chest soon flowed down towards the pant area and there she tenderly grabs the sex organ. Giving it a quick squeeze before drawing both hand and lips away in a playful manner. God she just loved being a tease.

     Still facing him, both sturdy hands lead the man towards the bathroom door using her foot to open it enough to enter. It’s exciting finding different places to partake in the flesh, the two already did this in several places: on the bed, floor, kitchen table, the kitchen itself (counters or when either on of them we’re cooking almost burning the place down one time), couches, a good rooftop here and there. No matter the place if Floyd could satisfy those needs the red head was down. Once inside both hands release and turn to the granite shower. Defined glute sway back and forth with each step, taunting him by signaling ‘Come and get me’.

     Inside the luxurious shower Sonja turns the water on, at a temperature that wasn’t too hot or cold. Water travels down hair that was red like blood, over blush colored nipples, which we’re getting hard when a body faces her lover, and down to the shower floor. Just to be even more of a tease, grabs her bust moving it in a slow circular motion then moans faintly.

[mianite-3-unofficial]

The Past and The Blade

“Where do you think Jordan is?” Tom asked just as Gijsbert returned from his one hour (which had become two hour) break. Jericho grunted, not listening

“Is he another friend of yours?” Gijsbert asked. Tom nodded, then paused.

“Your eyes are red- have you been crying, mate? You okay?”

Gijsbert’s face automatically returned to normal, the puffiness going away and replacing itself with his normal gaze.

“Allergies. They’re harvesting outside the walls.”

“How’d you just do that?”

“Magic. Shapeshifting and thralling, together as one. Jericho, are you reading?”

Jericho set down the book he was reading.

“No,” he said smoothly, “are you?”

Tom heard someone laugh. It was light, pretty, like the voice in his dream. He smiled down at the knife, feeling like a little kid who knew the biggest secret in the whole world. That Dianite was there, and that he hadn’t been killed by some strange, evil thing like what happened both times before.

“Don’t I have to be, you know, dreaming to hear you?” He whispered.

The knife connects us. The sigil connects us. Doing this is... a little draining, but I’m not doing much else.

Tom looked up from the knife, Tucker and Gijsbert standing at opposite sides of the room, Tucker by the door and Gijsbert standing by a target painted on the floor.

I know him, Dianite whispered to him, my brother was very fond of his fiancé, and his fiancé’s mother.

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Tom muttered to himself.

A shame, really. A shame, a shame.

“Uh,” Tom said, eloquent as always.

Tucker looked up from where he had been staring at his hands.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tom said, “wondering... what You’re doing. Yeah, what’re you doing?”

“Teleporting,” Jericho growled, “now shut up, I have to focus.”

Tom shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t know anyone here,” he said, “This city is so new, so beautiful... I’m scared to go outside. For it to fall apart like Ruxomar did since there’s no way that shit was a one time thing, and the shadows are, like, still a thing. My God, I’ve only been here three days, and I’m so worried about the world ending.”

The knife suddenly felt warm in his hands.

Yes, yes. I have heard their names. The creatures that writhe in the void, that go against all nature. Against me. Against us. Because you are the me that isn’t me, right Tom? Dianite mused.

Tom’s thumb slipped, a deep gash cutting into it. He didn’t even flinch. Tucker waved his arms about, still not teleporting. Gijsbert was smiling at him, always so encouraging.

“No, no I’m not. Mot’s my double, and Dianite’s your double-“

And you are Dianite of another world, are you not? Dianite reasoned, A title claimed when you ended his existence? So you are the me that isn’t me, my doppelgänger, my double.

“Shut it,” Tom hissed. “And I had to kill him. I didn’t want to. He meant the world to me but he tried to hurt my friends-“

So you took his power and his place! Burned away the brush so life could grow anew! Dianite laughed, light and beautiful, like a flower.

“No, no! Losing him was like-“

“Could you shut the fuck up?” Jericho snapped.

“Or what?” Tom teased back, trying to hide the building, bubbling emotion in his chest.

“Or I’ll knock your fucking lights out. Can’t you tell this is important? I’m trying to get us home.”

Tom stood, the chair knocked out underneath him, clattered against the floor.

“I’m not going back there.”

Jericho glared at him, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“You don’t have a fucking choice.”

“That place’s not my home,” Tom argued, clutching the handle of the knife desperately.

“Yes it is!” Jericho screamed. There was a beat of silence.

“Home is where the heart is,” Tom tried to joke, “And I don’t have a heart.”

Jericho sighed. “Maybe you left it there.”

Tom looked over to Gijsbert, standing still, just watching.

“Why would I ever want to go back?” Tom said, tone low and level, “I like this world. Maybe this could be our home! We really don’t have to go back, and I don’t want to go back. Ever. And I think Jordan and James and Sonja would say the same.”

“Oh, would they?” Jericho inched closer, getting up in his face. “Sonja would listen to me. Wag has been miserable since he got here, and Sparkelz is so whipped for Ianite that he’d go back just because she’s alive.”

“What about my god?” Tom asked, voice pathetically quiet.

I’m right here, Tom. Dianite murmured comfortingly.

“No, not... I mean, back there, Dia’s dead, Tucker. I’d have nobody.”

“That’s a little... overdramatic,” Jericho said, “I mean, you’re the one who killed him?”

Without thinking, Tom raised the knife, ready to stab-

-And felt every single muscle in his body lock up. Jericho seemed to be experiencing the same way, motionless and straining.

“Can we be civilized, for the love of fuck?”

Gijsbert had them both thralled, his fingers moving ever so slightly, like he was pulling at the threads of a weave. Tom felt that straining, straining force, like the night he and Andor met Gijsbert, and like the first time, he felt it slide off of him like water off a duck. He lowered the knife, taking a few shaking steps back.

“How do you keep on doing that?” Gijsbert shouted in frustration. He was sweating

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “but I’m gonna. I’m gonna go. Tucker, good luck, uh, bye. And um. See ya, shortstack. Better luck next time.”

He vaulted over the desk he was sitting behind, ruffling Jericho’s hair as he stood there, frozen. Tom rushed out the door, letting it slam behind him, then ran out of the library, down the streets, running, running, running.

He couldn’t run from what he wanted to, though.

The blade of the knife felt hot.

[dwaynepride]

Remember Me - Part 1

Up In Flames

Summary: Life is great for you and Pride, until it isn’t. Imagine waking up, and not remembering the person you love the most.

Words: 1,968

Warnings: None. General violence and angst

Part 2

Waking into the office, it was immediately known that Dwayne Pride was awake and active. You didn't expect anything else from the man, especially during a case. And yet, that same old thought crossed your mind again; ’does he ever sleep in?’

“Dwayne.” You called out, placing your bag on your desk while watching the archway to the kitchen.

And, with a large grin, Dwayne's head poked out. He was smiling, obviously pleased that you were here before the others. That meant a little bit of alone time; something sorely lacking during a case. “Good mornin’.” Dwayne greeted, walking up to your desk eagerly.

You met him halfway, chastely kissing him good morning. A routine, when the others weren't around. And you didn't miss how Dwayne's hand slipped into yours. Always eager for some more contact.

He backed away, eyes soft with affection. “I'm makin’ pancakes. Looks like you get first dibs.”

With that, his hand fell out of yours. But Dwayne made sure you were walking beside him as you both entered the kitchen. True to his word, the smell of pancakes and melted butter filled the air, along with the scent of New Orleans that could never really be drowned out by whatever dish Pride was making that day. It was a smell that quickly became home.

He led you to the island, immediately going into autopilot to put a plate and fork in front of you. Pride slipped a pancake on the plate, flipped the one cooking in the pan, and then moved to get you a cup of coffee.

And you watched this all with a soft smile. “Don't you ever relax?” You teased.

“My kitchen.” He answered curtly, walking over to deliver your coffee. And Dwayne didn't forget to place a kiss on your forehead before he moved away to continue cooking.

You gave him a short huff, but began to eat before growing a little serious. “Any developments on the case?” You asked. “Did Sebastian-”

“I'll tell ya everything when Christopher and Sonja get here.” Dwayne interrupted, not looking up from the pancake. “No use explaining it twice. Now, eat.”

“I am eating.”

“Eat quieter.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you needed your full attention for making pancakes.”

Dwayne let out a chuckle, his eyes raising briefly to you. “Making pancakes happens to be an art form, darlin’. Gotta get ‘em the right shade of golden brown. Can't be all gooey in the middle. Perfect circle is preferable, but not required.”

You listened to his words, a soft smile growing as you watched the man carefully flip the pancake. Even after all this time, it was hard to believe Dwayne Pride was yours. Your boss, yes. Your friend, absolutely. Your boyfriend, that feeling was still sinking in.

But then Dwayne looked up and gave you such a warm smile to match his soft eyes, and suddenly, it was easier to believe that he was all yours. All these little moments belonged to you solely. It was a gift you felt like you barely deserved but thanked God or whoever that it was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something; maybe it would have been cheesy or cliche. But both you and Pride looked towards the squadroom upon hearing LaSalle's voice, followed by Percy's. Apparently, somebody had found something pertaining to the case.

Dwayne's look was apologetic, turning off the stovetop before following you into the squadroom, where LaSalle and Percy stood. Their grim expressions immediately wiped away the calm and comfortable air you and Pride had formed. Those moments didn't ever last very long.

“What’ya got?” Pride asked, his light tone replaced with something sterner. The nature of this case earned the serious switch of his voice.

LaSalle immediately motioned towards the monitors, the remote in his hand. And the field agents gathered around. “We gotta lead on our mysterious bomb maker.” LaSalle said as he brought up a mug shot of someone who definitely looked like they'd be making bomb in a basement somewhere. Skinny. Pale. Gaunt.

Percy gave a huff at the look of him, audibly reflecting your thoughts. “This is the guy we're after?” She asked with a wrinkled nose. “Dude looks like he can barely run down the street.”

“Never needs to.” Pride remarked lowly, eyebrows drawn forward before motioning to Chris. “Where's he?”

LaSalle shot his friend a look before smirking. “I might've gotten some credible leads on the guy's location. Looks like he's moved his base of operations from his van to an old apartment building abandoned after Katrina. No one really lives ‘round those parts anymore. Perfect place to build a bomb, if ya ask me.”

With that, Pride got a short nod. “Worth a look.” He stated, and those three words prompted the three of you to gather your gear.

“‘Spose I don't need to tell you to watch your back?” Dwayne mumbled from behind as he strapped on your vest for you. Any chance he had to be a mother hen, he took it.

You shot him a smirk from over your shoulder, recognizing that troubled, worried look Dwayne wore. “It's your back I'm worried about.” You replied teasingly. “You seem to have a knack for getting your ass in trouble.”

“I'm bein’ serious, sweetheart. Be careful.” Pride pressed the last strap into place before he turned you around, hands still on your shoulders. His green eyes watched you carefully, and you can tell there was more he wanted to say. Probably the things he always wanted to say before something dangerous was about to go down; I love you, come back to me safe, if you get hurt I'll be mildly upset.

But he didn't. Dwayne just pressed a quick and chaste kiss to your cheek before walking away, his Boss Mode coming back. And you followed him. You'd always follow Dwayne Pride.

Upon entering the apartment building, you both split up to cover more ground. With LaSalle and Percy taking the back, it shouldn't take long to clear the place out. Room after room was empty before moving onto the next.

Though, as you came up to the front door to one of the apartments, it was cracked open. You frowned, using your foot to carefully push it open a few inches. Through the crack, you couldn't see much. Just the same dirty walls and mildewed paint. So you pushed the door open the rest of the way.

And before you could even raise your gun, there was a faint click. It sounded unnatural, metallic, like it shouldn't be in a place ravaged by a hurricane more than ten years ago.

Instinct kicked in immediately. You didn't know where Pride was, but his safety was more important than yours, at the moment. “Dwayne, run!” You called out, and only ran a few steps down the hall before everything went white with the deafening sound of the world exploding around you.

Pride barely heard your voice, but the explosion definitely got his attention. The walls shook around him. The ground vibrated under his feet. For a scary moment, he was sure this old building would start falling apart all around him. But it didn't, and as soon as the explosion went off, the sudden outburst of noise was immediately followed by dead silence.

He was silent for a moment, getting his bearings before Pride remembered hearing your voice before the explosion. “Y/N.” He uttered out, your name caught in his throat like a frog. And Pride was tearing out of the apartment, yelling into his mic for someone to call an ambulance. NOPD. Bomb squad. Everybody. But Pride had a feeling LaSalle was already doing that.

Now, his first priority was you.

Pride was choking on dust and dirt. It hung in the air like fog on a fall morning, and the agent could barely see in front of him. But he called out your name. Yelled it until his throat started to hurt, and then yelled it some more. He nearly slipped on debris, his hand waving to try and clear some of the dust in the air.

And then he saw you, thrown up against the wall from the impact of the explosion. For a slight moment, Pride couldn't move. Your body looked so uncharacteristically small and fragile. He's never thought of you as fragile before; you were one of the strongest people he knew.

Yet, right now, Pride was approaching your body as carefully as he could.

“Y/N, baby.” He mumbled out, kneeling by your side. With a shaky hand, Pride reached out and immediately checked for a pulse. And he sighed out loud, feeling raw relief flood his body when he found one.

But even though your heart was still beating, there was blood seeping from a wound on your head. Pride's hand ghosted over it, wanting to do something. But he waited until he heard the paramedics. “In here!” Pride called out, eyes never wavering from your quickly-paling face. “We got an agent down in here!”

Everyone went home after being checked out by a doctor. All except Pride.

You didn't need surgery. Other than a bump on your head that's had you knocked out for hours, there wasn't anything wrong. A few cuts and bruises, that's about it. The reason you were still here was the bandage around your head.

Pride was tired, but there was nothing that could drag him away from your bedside. It was hard to remember that just this morning, you were teasing him about those damn pancakes. Smiling and kissing him and promising you'd be okay.

He definitely didn't blame you. Pride would never think of this as your fault. The hot anger burning in his stomach was pointing towards the person who caused this, whom the rest of the team was still tracking down. This time, with even more of a drive because one of their own was attacked.

It was difficult to push these thoughts away and focus on you. Dwayne reached a hand out to hold one of your limp ones. It was a little cold, so he used his other hand to cradle it, warm it up. He remembered how you'd get cold at night and cuddle up closer for warmth. Pride didn't want you to be cold.

And he didn't notice the hard lump in his throat until he tried to speak. “I love you.” He muttered out, and it seemed like too simple a statement. True, but simple. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Now you're stuck here, gettin’ cold. Honey, I promise, when you wake up-”

Pride paused when he felt your hand twitch. Your fingers lightly curled around his. He blinked once, moving to the edge of his seat, feeling such giddiness at the prospect that you were finally waking up and he can once again tell you he loved you. “Y/N, baby, I'm right here.” Pride said patiently, as if nudging a child in the right direction.

Finally, your eyes fluttered open. There was a moment when you weren't quite used to the lights, so Pride immediately let go of your hand to run and turn them down low.

That definitely helped. Dwayne returned, a smile curling on his lips as you looked around. “You gave me a real scare there.” He breathed out, head tilting to try and catch your attention.

Your eyes eventually moved to his, but Dwayne didn't see the emotions he was expecting to see. Instead of love or relief, he saw only confusion and fear. He came closer, a hand resting on yours.

And when you flinched and pulled it away, Pride frowned. “Y/N…?”

“Who are you?” Your raspy voice asked, eyes darting around the room with obvious fear. “Where am I?”

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 241

In this Violet’s world is changed, Courtney spends time with her new friends, Laila get’s hot under the collar and Alaska has to sacrifice for the team.

Thank you to @toriibelledarling @samrull and @veronicasanders - My darling cowriters <3

“Yes.. I, yes.. Thank you.. I’ll talk to you later too.. Bye.”

Violet put her phone in her bag after talking to Sutan who was spending the night with his sister. Violet turned around and walked back inside the gallery. Her shoes were hurting, the drink in her hand almost empty, the people around her mostly strangers. Someone bumped into Violet, and she silently cursed herself for not pleading more for Sutan to come along with her, but she wasn’t someone who begged. Sutan needed time with his sister, and how was she to ask twice if he had something better to do. Sutan had done so much for her lately, and she didn’t want to be the ungrateful brat, she was sure Sutan sometimes saw her as.

Violet took the last sip of her drink, getting lost in the mysterious landscapes of Hercules Segers as she walked around, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, almost making her jump. Violet turned around, and came face to face with Chad Michaels, the woman smiling brightly.

“Darling!” Chad exclaimed happily, enveloping Violet in a cloud of Dior perfume and air kisses which Violet quickly returned.

“Ms. Michaels, hello,” Violet said. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“I am just thrilled that you’re here, Violet! Especially this week! What a wonderful job you did for that Marie Claire spread.”

“Thank you.” Violet smiled, beyond happy that Chad had somehow seen her work and also realised that it was her. She hadn’t expected the other woman, or really anyone, to, and hearing the praise warmed her heart.

“I’ve been meaning to call you and it kept slipping my mind and here you are, it’s like fate!” Chad grabbed a drink for her and one for Violet from one of the waiters that walked by, still chatting away. “I recognized it instantly!”

“Really?” Violet looked at Chad, not quite believing what she was hearing, the fact that she was there alone not all that depressing anymore. Violet couldn’t imagine what would have happened if Betty or even Pearl had been there with her, Chad demanding her complete attention.

“Darling. Of COURSE we can recognize your work. I do hope that this wasn’t a one-time deal.” Chad put an arm around Violet, dragging her off to the side and somehow easily finding a couch where the two could sit down, Chad effortlessly demanding the space. “I’ve been telling that boss of yours for months that she needs to give you your own line, and it seems like she’s finally listening to me with the Marie Claire spread!”

Violet choked on her drink, almost coughing before she caught herself, her hand in front of her mouth as she swallowed the liquid.

“What?”

“The Marie Claire spread you silly goose.”

Violet felt like the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Was Chad the one that had recommended her for the Marie Claire spread? Was Chad the one that had a finger in the game, and not Sutan?

“You…you have?”

“Of course! And why not? You have such a remarkable gift, my dear!”

Chad was still chatting. Violet could see Chad’s lips moving, but she couldn’t really hear the other woman, her ears ringing. Had she been fussy with Sutan for no reason? Acting out and silently punishing him for something he had never done? Violet needed to go, she needed to go, and to apologize and tell Sutan what a colossal bitch she had been, her head spinning.

“Speaking of which, I’d love to commission a few more gowns from you, and I would be honored if you’d design something absolutely over the top for me for the Met Ball this year. What do you think?”

“I have to go.”

***

“What if we just-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Detox sat down on the bed, Grace crying in his arms. The little girl had woken up for the 6th time that night, coughing and crying, her ears hurting.

“No I don’t, but I know you.” Juju took Grace from Detox, Detox silently cursing the new babysitter they had hired, that had forgotten to put Grace’s hat on before she took the small kids outside to play in the december snow.

“Sssh, ssh.” Juju gently rocked Grace back and forth, undoing her top so Grace could latch onto a nipple, the little girl finally calming down, her small hands curled into fists.

“Kids are fucking monsters.”

“And yet you have four.” Juju smiled, and Detox sat down next to her.

“And yet I have four.”

***

“Sutan. Sutan. Wake up.” Sutan felt someone shake him, but he didn’t want to wake up, his head heavy, his mouth tasting of every single drink he had shared with Raja.

{Raj, leave me alone}

Oh god. He was way too old to mix shots and wine, but stomach churning as he tried to sit up. Why was Raja being such a bitch?

“Sutan, come on, please, I have to talk to you.”

Sutan recognised the voice. It wasn’t Raja, and it wasn’t Raven, but someone else entirely.

“.. Violet?” Sutan sat up, his girlfriend sitting on the floor of his livingroom. Sutan knew it wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t help but congratulate himself that he had somehow made it home the day before. “Did you use your key?” Sutan looked down at himself, thankful that he was at least still wearing pants and his undershirt, the rest of his suit properly crumbled up somewhere.

“We have to talk.” Violet was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, her hair and outfit looking perfect. Why was it that Violet hadn’t spent the night with him? Had she gone somewhere? Fuck his head felt so heavy.

“I’m pretty- Vi, I’m pretty drunk, can this wa-”

“No.” Violet looked at him, her expression one of pure determination. “We have to talk, right now, or I’ll never say anything.”

“What?” Was Violet okay? Had something happened to hear? Sutan reached out, grabbing Violet’s knee, his girl allowing him. “Did someone hurt you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Violet, did someone hurt you? Do I need to call someone?” Sutan tightened his grab, the idea of someone hurting Violet unbearable to him.

“I’m sorry. I did a really bad thing and I- I thought you had forced someone to give me the Marie Claire photoshoot.”

“… What?”

The words came out in a rush, “It’s stupid, I know, I know, but I was so sure. Why else would it have been given to me?”  Sutan barely able to hear what Violet was actually saying, everything a mess like it had been at the hospital. “I can’t- I’m not, I didn’t deserve it, and I still got it,” Violet breathed in, almost gasping for air before she continued to speak, like she’d die if she didn’t get it out right away, “It’s been killing me since I secretly assumed it had been your doing, that you, oh I don’t know, made a deal with Bianca or Fame and that you didn’t trust me, and then with thanksgiving.”

Was Violet saying that she assumed Sutan had something to do with her work? That he had somehow talked his friends into giving her a photoshoot? Sutan knew he should properly feel hurt, and if he was being honest he did, but it was part of Violet to worry, and she deserved not to talk to him while he was drunk.

“Hey, hey.” Sutan moved his hand, gently taking Violet’s arm, the girl stopping her stream of words, her entire attention on him.

“I’d never do that.”

The room feel silent, Violet looking at him like he was her entire world, and Sutan took the aking the time to choose his words.

“You don’t need my help Violet.” Sutan could see that Violet was about to open her mouth, but he stopped her, quickly continuing. “If you think you do, you’re wrong. I don’t know where this is coming from, but what you achieve is yours, and I would never try to take that from you. I can guide you and give you advice if you want me to, but your career is yours, not mine. It’s yours.”

Violet threw her arms around him, holding him close, her face pressed into his neck. “I’m sorry.” Sutan wrapped an arm around Violet’s waist, giving her a tight squeesh.

“Vi..”

“Yes?”

“Can I have some water please?”

“Of course.”

***

“Augh!” Courtney shrieked as Sonja opened a bottle of champagne, spraying everyone. Vanity ducked behind her to protect her wig from getting drenched and Bethenny began to tease him.

“Really? She’s your protector? She could fit in my pocket. She’s the size of a Keebler elf.”

“Well,” Vanity reasoned. “I had to make a quick decision and Luann isn’t here.”

Ramona burst out laughing. “Where is she, anyway? She sent me a very cryptic text about why she couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, probably because she feels guilty that she’s dating your ex,” said Carole.

“Tom isn’t my ex! We just went on a couple of dates!” Ramona insisted.

“Well, whatever, she still should have told you when she started dating him. Just like she should have told Sonja, or HE should have told Sonja. The whole thing is very shady.” Bethenny shook her head, pouring another drink. “I do not approve. Breaking the girl code.”

“Girl code! Girl code!” Ramona mocked Luann’s latest catchphrase, laughing.

Sonja leaned on her shoulder giggling.

“So the three of you all dated the same guy?” Courtney asked.

“Is he like, amazing in bed?” Vanity asked.

“He’s fine in bed,” Sonja said. “I wouldn’t say ‘amazing.’”

“He’s desperate to bag a Housewife, apparently,” Bethenny explained. “You’re lucky you’re gay.”

“Yeah, I say a prayer of thanks for that every day,” Courtney said, laughing.

“So what’s this show gonna be like?” asked Ramona. “Do you have hot backup dancers?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they’re super hot,” said Courtney.

“Ramona, you’re talking to a lesbian, you may need to clarify if she means hot boys or hot girls.”

“I knew what she meant,” Courtney said, laughing. “And I’ve got both, Bethenny.” Courtney winked at the brunette.

“Well, good. That gives us more choices.”

Ramona’s eyes bugged out in shock, causing both Carole and Bethenny to dissolve in giggles.

“I’m kidding, you idiot,” Bethenny yelled.

“Well, ya never know with you,” said Ramona.

“Indeed,” Carole said coyly.

“I think we should plan a girls’ trip,” said Ramona.

“I’m so confused as to what the fuck this is,” Bethenny said.

“This is just an overnight. I mean like a real, solid, like 4 or 5 days.”

“I’m busy,” Carole said.

“I haven’t said any dates!” Ramona laughed.

“I know.” Carole poured herself another drink.

“I have a question,” Courtney said. “When you say ‘Girls’ Trip,’ is that code for ‘no significant others’ or does it just mean girls?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I just, I don’t know, 5 days seems like a long time. B’s been feeling kind of neglected lately.” Courtney didn’t add her next thought, which was ‘Leaving her alone when she’s feeling hard up seems like asking for trouble.’

“Remember how much shit you gave Aviva for wanting to bring her husband to St Bart’s?” Sonja laughed.

“Well yeah, because Aviva was crazy. And her husband was a jerk. Bianca might actually be fun,” Ramona said.

“You don’t have to say yes, I was just wondering.”

“I think it’s kind of sweet,” said Carole. “And kind of sad that the 22 year old has the most functional relationship here.”

“It’s not sweet,” Vanity piped up. “They are fucking nymphomaniacs who are gonna be scissoring all over your vacation home.”

Courtney slapped Vanity on the side of the head. “Shut up, Ben!” she exclaimed, laughing.

“Well, it’s true. And I’m not even touching ‘functional relationship,’” she added, holding out her champagne glass. “I need another drink, quickly.”

“Ya dog-ass mole,” Courtney grumbled, crossing her arms.

***

RE: Christmas

Dear Ms. Michaels,

I’m so sorry for leaving you as abruptly as I did last night. I want to assure you that working with you for the christmas season would be a tremendous honor to design a look for you. I’ve made a few sketches based on your tastes and preferences. I have attached the sketches, and I hope that we can use them as jumping off points for discussions.

Thank you for your encouragement.

Best wishes,

Violet

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RE: RE: Christmas

VIOLET THESE ARE DIVINE!! #2 IS MY FAVORITE!!

You MUST let me take you out to lunch this week so that we can talk more!!

Xoxo,

Chad

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RE: RE: RE: Christimas

Ms. Michaels,

It would be my absolute pleasure to go to lunch with you! Thank you again for your support, I’m very greatful.

Best wishes,

Violet

***

“Hey babe.”

Laila looked up from her computer, her hands filled with swatched from the tour she had done of her most used lipsticks. She looked up to see Pearl, her girlfriend standing in the doorway, a smile on her lips. Pearl had gone out earlier that night, Laila not even catching that Pearl was going out, until she was already gone, her and Max apparently hitting some concert in Harlem.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Mmmh.” Pearl nodded, her eyes filled with a lustful glint, like she wanted to eat Laila up, and Laila suddenly felt self conscious of her sweatpants and her braided purple hair. “I had whiskey.”

“Did you?”

“Mmh..” Pearl was wearing sinful leather pants, her long legs clad in the black fabric, her hips and stomach peaking out from the shirt that was tied into a crop top.

“… Is that my top?” Laila recognised the Metallica logo, the shirt one she had owned for years and one she usually wore to bed, but on Pearl, paired with a black jacket, it looked like something that had cost a thousand dollars.

“Is it?” Pearl smiled. “I’m so sorry babe, I’ll make it up to you right away.” Pearl took her jacket off, and Laila felt her mouth run dry as Pearl dropped the jacket on the floor, pushing the door shut behind before. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?” Pearl pulled at the shirt, undoing the knot she had tied with ease, her red nails tugging the fabric open before she grabbed it and slowly pulled it up, up, up and over her head, her long blonde hair falling down her back, Laila recognising Pearl’s underwear as La Perla, something she wouldn’t have been able to do at gunpoint a year ago.

“Because I think you should punish me.”

Laila smiled, Pearl’s desire for her thick in the air, the power going to her head as she held up her hand and gestured for Pearl to get closer, which she happily did.

“How can I say no to that?”

***

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking tired…” Jinkx moaned, tossing her clothes and shoes to the floor and climbing into bed. “What are we watching?”

Adore kissed her forehead and began to play with her red hair, cuddling back against Alaska’s warm body. “Forensic Files.”

“That shit gives me nightmares.”

“Awww, we’ll protect you, baby…”

Alaska giggled and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Adore’s neck. She wasn’t into the gruesome murder show either, so she chose to distract herself by letting her fingers trail up and down Adore’s tender skin, hands snaking between her thighs, lips finding her pulse point, sucking on her, rubbing her, until she was sighing and arching, breath coming fast and–

“AUGH!” Adore suddenly shrieked, pushing Alaska away.

“What?” Alaska sat up.

Adore whipped her head around, glaring at her, “That’s IT!” She leapt out of the bed and into the adjoining bathroom.

“What happened?” Jinkx murmured sleepily from her pillow.

“I told you, if that happened ONE MORE TIME!” Adore said, marching back into the bedroom, brandishing a pair of nail clippers like a weapon.

“Nooooooo!” Alaska whined.

“Oh yes! Those nails are GONE, bitch!” She threw back her head and laughed maniacally.

“But I liiike my naaaaaaaails,” she countered, as Adore straddled her and attempted to grab one of her hands.

“Well tough shit! No more nails!”

“Jiiiiiinkx!” Alaska whined, looking for support.

“Yeah, Jinkx, please help me out?” Adore looked over at the sleepy redhead.

Jinkx looked up. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars for every nail you cut.”

Alaska held out her hand for Adore. “Okay, deal.”

“Wait, that’s ten grand! Do I get anything for cutting them?” Adore asked.

“You can order a pizza. Alaska will pay for it.” Jinkx yawned and rolled over.

“Okay, deal.” Adore giggled and began to cut away, then paused to kiss Alaska on the cheek. “I’m sorry about your nails, boo.”

“Sorry about scratching you.”

“It’s okay. You can kiss it better.” Adore winked at her.

“You got it.”

***

Courtney twirled around with Vanity, high on expensive liquor and the adrenaline of performing. She’d just finished signing autographs for a gaggle of teenage girls, and now she was hitting the club with the ladies.

The DJ was young and sexy and giving her bedroom eyes, and he was blasting Lucien’s dance remix of Ecstasy. Subtle, but cute. She blew him a kiss and continued to spin around with her brother, wondering if it was totally narcissistic to enjoy dancing to her own music this much and deciding that she didn’t care.

“Do you miss Bianca?” Carole called to her over the music, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

Courtney felt a surge of guilt bloom in her chest. The truth was, she hadn’t really thought about Bianca since she’d stepped onto the stage. She’d been having way too much fun. The reality of her newfound independence was both unsettling and freeing. Things with B had been so tense lately, especially since the whole Thanksgiving disaster. Maybe they should be doing more things apart. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Couples weren’t supposed to be codependent, right? This was them evolving into something healthier, something more adult, right? Right?

Courtney looked at Carole, smiling sweetly. “So much,” she said wistfully. “But I know she’s having a good time in New York, and this way it’ll be that much better when we see each other again.”

Carole nodded and exclaimed, “Exactly!”

Courtney tilted her eyes upwards and breathed a sigh of relief as the music echoed off the walls. When I don’t even know my name, when my reckless can’t be tamed…and when the DJ sets us free, we will be in ecstasy…