#she goes to his salons even though she hates them. and wears dresses that she feels naked and exposed in. all bc he demands it of her

[nessvn]

I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABT RAYMONDE

[kennahjune]

Some Platonic Stancy + Mike for The Heart

Nancy Wheeler, who cuts her hair short for the first time in 1984 and keeps the short hair going for the next three years until Ted Wheeler makes some bitchy comment on women with shirt hair.

Nancy, not usually the one to people please, ignores the comment. She and Mike both get them often from Ted, shit about Mikes hair being long and hers being short. So she ignores them.

Until their mom joins in with the comments, however subtle they may be.

So, Nancy starts growing her hair out. Mike, however, goes about his life with his hair. He’s never home long enough to really care about the comments— always at the cabin or with the Party somewhere.

Enter the year 1988, and Nancy has successfully grown her hair well below her shoulders. It’s pretty. She gets compliments on her curls and beautiful brown color all the time.

But she hates it.

She fucking hates it.

Three years of having her hair shirt had gotten her used to having it off of her neck. And now that it’s so long, well…

Nancy Wheeler has never had a problem with sensory issues. That was more Mike’s thing— always having to cut the tags off his clothes and downright refusing to eat certain foods— but her hair on her neck makes her want to vomit.

And sure— she can simply put it up, keep it in a high bun and off her neck.

But just the knowledge of it being there makes her sweat. Makes her want to itch the skin off of her neck.

She feels bad for making fun of Mikes hate for tags.

Now, enter year 1989 pursued by Steve Harrington, fresh out of cosmetology school.

Steve had been doing his own hair since he was little and sat with his mom and grandpa at the vanity in their dressing room (because of course the Harrington’s have a dressing room). He’d sit and watch as his mom curled her hair— or straightened, depending on her mood. He’d sit in his grandpa’s lap as he showed little Steve all the different products and tools, letting Steve chip in and help style his hair.

It was a passion handed down from Steve’s moms side, the love for hair. And he planned on finally doing something with it— even if it wasn’t exactly what his parents wanted. (Though they learned to live with it— he did start his own hair salon, after all.)

Now, where does Steve play into this scene?

Well— it starts on a Tuesday afternoon in late July.

Steve Harrington had been cleaning the house while listening to his dads old records on the dingy record player in the living room. The knocking was barely heard over the volume, even with how frantic it was. The only reason Steve— who had lost most of his hearing in his left ear— heard the knocking was because whoever it was nearly knocked a picture off the wall.

So he opened the door to Mike and Nancy Wheeler on his front porch.

Mike looked almost bored, but he gave Steve a smile and a ‘hello’ before dragging his sister in by the arm.

Nancy looked worse-for-wear; her eyes seemed sunken and the eye-bags were darker than he’d seen them in years. He hoped it wasn’t new nightmares.

“Come on in, I guess,” Steve grumbled while Mike made himself comfortable in the living room. He wasn’t actually mad, just playing into a running bit he’d had going on with the mini Wheeler for nearly two years now.

“Watch it, Harrington.” Mike pointed at him. “You’ll loose a paying customer.” But the kid was smiling wide.

Steve scoffed. “‘Paying customer’ my ass, Wheeler! You barge into my home, make me trim your hair, call me an asshole and leave!” Steve himself was grinning wide.

Mike waved him off but Steve heard the giggle he failed to hide.

Nancy stood awkwardly on the living room carpet in the button up she’d stolen from Robin, white tank top, and cut-off jean shorts. She’d been taking a bit of fashion tips from Eddie recently. She found she liked the denim a lot more than skirts in the summer.

Steve finally gave her his attention.

“Hey Nance! What’s up?”

Nancy felt herself relax with the easy smile Steve gave her. She cleared her throat.

“Um— well, Mike said you trim his hair for him every once in a while and I know you just finished school and everything so—“

“You want a haircut?” he cut off her ramble. He and her both have picked up the rambling habit from Robin. “It’s about time, Wheeler. The long hairs cute and all but… so… not you, oddly enough.” He stood with his hip cocked and a thoughtful hand on his chin supported by the arm wrapped around his middle.

Nancy sighed roughly through her mouth and dragged a hand down her face.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know! I can’t stand having it so long— it’s so itchy and scratchy and annoying and not to mention high maintenance! Like yeah it looks good but seriously what is the point other than pain?”

Steve snickered and Mike threw his shoe at her to get her to stop.

“Come on you two, the dressing rooms upstairs.”

In the dressing room, Mike was sat at the vanity first. Steve had gotten Nancy a glass of water and told her to sit on the couch at the back wall and relax.

She tried her best, sipping the water and enjoying the view of the woods in the backyard from the window next to her (even if those woods held darker memories than they should).

She examined the room closely while Steve scolded Mike for using Ted’s shampoo/conditioner (because of course the bastard uses a two-in-one) while Mike pleaded he was desperate after running out of his own stuff.

The floor was tiled for easy clean up, the only carpet being the one under the couch Nancy sat on. The couch was plush leather, the cool touch a welcomed change from the July heat. The walls were a baby pink so light it almost looks white, covered in well-placed posters and photos and even stickers that were stuck on.

The vanity and the couch weren’t the only furniture in the room; a coffee table in front of the couch, a small two-drawer dresser next to the vanity, and nice, tall dresser back by the door. There were plants on the windowsill, flowers in pots on the dressers.

The windowsill was one of those fancy ones that Nancy liked so much; the ones that were like seats with drawers/cabinets underneath. The seat was decorated in an abundance of pillows and blankets.

It was a cozy room, and Nancy found herself zoning out and finally being able to ignore the invading bun on the back of her head. She tuned out the boys’ bickering and just stared at the window. Not through it. Not in it. At it. Examining each speck of dust on the glass and staring her reflection in the eyes.

Until a hair fell loose from bun and tickled her neck. And she almost threw her water at Mike who had sat next to her in her haste to get it off.

“Hey, hey! Nance!” Steve grabbed the water and Mike placed his hands around her neck, effectively stilling her and calming her.

“Hey, yeah, over here.”

Nancy looked at Steve. She kind of wanted to throw up.

“How about we finally get ride of all that length, yeah?”

She’d never heard a better question in her life.

Nancy told Steve to do whatever the hell he thought needed to be done. Steve told her he’d go to just above the shoulders and she agreed.

Mike took a spot on the windowsill, reaching into the cabinet underneath and grabbing a very worn book. Nancy hadn’t realized how much Mike came over to Steve’s before.

“Mike you’re seriously reading that again?” Nancy heard Steve ask. Watching him in the mirror, she saw him never look away from her hair once as Mike replied with a bitchy,

“It’s a good book! I thought you liked The Outsiders!”

Nancy snorted. Of course it was The Outsiders. Nancy remembered watching it with Mike, Will, Dustin and Lucas in the basement of their house when it first came out in March of ‘83.

“I didn’t know you liked The Outsiders, Steve,” she remarked. Nancy saw a red blush ride to his cheek in the mirror.

“It’s a good movie,” he muttered defensively.

Mike snickered. “Yeah— he watched it for the plot. The plot meaning shirtless Darry and half-naked Soda—“

Nancy thought Steve was going to chop her ear off and with how fast he turned around to yell at Mike.

Nancy herself sat cackling in the chair, watching Steve get defensive over his junior year fictional crushes.

.

When all was said and done, Steve gave Nancy a new shirt from the closet in the dressing room (that she failed to notice earlier). It was a simple yellow dress shirt. Steve said it was one of his moms. She was sent to shower and told to use the shampoo and conditioner on the third shelf in the bathroom.

When she had finished and walked back downstairs to meet the boys, Mike had already changed from his simple t-shirt to a black tank top with a dark blue buttoned flannel. Everyone kept clothes at Steve’s except Nancy, it seemed.

She made her way to Steve and sat her old shirts on the couch. With her hands free she pulled Steve into a bone-crushing hug. Steve was quick to reciprocate, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

“Thanks so much,”Nancy whispered into his ear. “This helped me so so much, Steve.”

“Anytime, Nance. You know that.”

And she did.

When Nancy and Mike left the Harrington house with a wave to Steve and a promise of letting him know what everyone thought, Nancy had never felt lighter— both physically and mentally.

.

That night, Nancy slept like she hadn’t in years.

Her hair wasn’t to bad on her neck with the new length. It wasn’t making it itchy or scratching at her cheeks wrong.

She didn’t have to have her mom braid it before bed to keep it away, ultimately ending up with a headache the next day because she could never sleep with her hair up.

No. When Nancy Wheeler went to bed, she woke up feeling refreshed and energized. No rash on her neck from scratching at it in her sleep.

When Steve heard about this later that same day, he pulled her into a hug and promised he’d cut her hair as much as she needed him to.

Nancy felt much better than she had in years.

And if she got Mike that sparkly, purple D-20 he’d been eyeing in the shop? Well— consider it a thank you.

[duchess-fox]

Lessons from the Screen: Juliet Sharp (Gossip Girl)

Juliet was a controversial character - you either loved her or hated her. I personally liked her character and feel the writers did her dirty with the drugging of Serena storyline (because in the GG world, underdogs and social climbers must be squashed). I think there's a lot to learn from this character, more so than any of the others especially in the journey to levelling up.

Who is Juliet?

Juliet is strictly middle class. Her family lives in a nicer part of the United States - Cornwall, Conneticut - but she herself did not attend the private school in the area. Her half brother was a teacher at that private school.

Juliet is both streetsmart and booksmart. She has the booksmarts to get into Columbia and she has the streetsmarts to put an elaborate plan to take down Serena into action.

Columbia and Keeping Up

She attends Columbia, an ivy league school, but not without her cousin's help. We see that Juliet relies on him for her tuition and living expenses. Most college students would work to supplement their meager income - however Juliet does not.

Juliet joins Hamilton House and eventually becomes their key master. This pursuit was probably almost full time work in itself.

Juliet was able to successfully plant herself among the children of members of high society and would have likely have successfully found herself married into their ranks if not for her involvement with Serena & Co.

Juliet's Downfall

Juliet is forced to bow out of the scene (a possibly withdraw from university) after forcing Serena into an institution.

Her single-mindedness and desperation to exact justice for her brother leads to her cousin cutting off her financial support and possibly being forced to withdraw from Columbia.

Lessons we can learn

The right place, at the right time

We, and Nate, are first introduced to Juliet when Nate takes his one-night stand date to brunch at Norma's - an upscale restaurant. She's there reading The House of Mirth and drinking a coffee. She's a refreshing change to the girls that Nate has been seeing lately who seems to only have a handful of phrases in her pretty head.

Lesson: Being at the right place, at the right time can help you meet potential friends and even partners. Like Juliet, you don't have to be there for breakfast, just there reading a book and drinking coffee. So even though you might not want to spend too much money on eating out, buying a coffee is relatively inexpensive. Treat it as if you're taking yourself out on a date - maybe even get yourself a slice of cake and enjoy it slowly along with your book. Make sure the place is upscale, make sure your book is physical (no e-readers - it's hard to have conversation about a book when people can't see what you're reading).

Learn to DIY beauty treatments

In order to keep up with fellow Hamilton House club members, she had to be resourceful. She learned to blowdry her own hair and likely did other beauty treatments herself.

Lesson: If you can't afford to have your nails and hair done, learn how to do them yourself! I do my own gel manicures and I use Korean products, the exact same ones as the salon I used to go to. While you might not be able to source the exact products a salon will use (since a lot of products are professional only), you can still get some quality products. There are also heaps of tutorials online on how to do your nails and your hair.

Stretch your resources when it comes to your wardrobe

We primarily see Juliet in a lot of neutrals - namely grey. She probably also has the only wardrobe that remains somewhat relevant today. She also needs to dress for the kind of crowd she wants to be a part of.

She goes to an outlet to buy designer clothes and if she does buy from the department stores in the city, she returns them after she wears them. She even has a tagging gun to put the tags back on. She also subscribes to Rent the Runway to supplement her wardrobe.

Lesson: While I don't condone the returning of worn clothing, if you have to have some designer clothes, Rent the Runway is great for that - it allows you to rotate clothing at a fee which is good if you have special occasions to dress for.

In saying that, designer clothing is very hit or miss (as evidenced by the other character wardrobes from Gossip Girl). You're much better off having some classic, timeless pieces - sheath dresses, blazers, button downs, simple sweaters, jeans that look amazing on you (regardless of what silhouette is currently in fashion). You can always accessorize with jewelry, bags, belts and shoes.

Men don't give a shit about what designer bag/shoes you're wearing as long as it looks expensive. So you don't have to get an expensive bag - just one that looks high quality and therefore expensive (I should probably do a post on what to look out for).

Put your best interests first

Juliet loses everything because she's too busy trying to get revenge for her brother who doesn't seem the least bit remorseful that he cost his sister her education and possibly her future. Her cousin stops funding her tuition when she gets involved in his relationship with Serena.

Lesson: So, think of your own best interests first. Don't set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm!

[cocovikings23]

New Start - Chapter 6 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

Hi everyone !

As promised in the sixth chapter, I hope you like it. Nothing special is happening, the relationship between Ivar and the reader is intensifying, I needed to go through it to get to chapter 7 which will be more "full" ☺️😎

Words: 2284

Warnings : None except mention of sexual practices. Texts are written in italics

Again thank you to my beta @waiting4inspiration ♥️

Gif by @ivarsshieldmadien

Chapter 6: Business Travel

After landing, a limo is waiting for you, Floki, and Ivar. The three of you get into this beautiful car and the champagne is offered to you “Ecbert wants to impress us with his wealth, he should rather impress us by keeping his promises,” said Floki in a sarcastic tone. Ivar smiles a little ironic smile that only he knows the meaning of.

You arrive at the hotel and Gods, it’s enormous. A baggage handler takes care of your bags and the three of you go to the reception. The hotel has assigned you suites – it doesn’t surprise you – and you then head for the elevator. Ivar hasn’t said a word to you since the landing and it’s starting to get tense even though you know he prefers to say nothing to Floki about your little follies on the plane.

You go up to the tenth and last floor of this building. Floki already knows the place. He has come time and time again with Ragnar so, he does not need to be shown to his room.

Ivar interrupts this silence by greeting Floki who returns from his suite, “Floki, we meet at 19:30 for dinner with Ecbert at the restaurant of the hotel. Get ready for negotiations, old fool.” You chuckle softly at Ivar’s words and he turns his gaze to you. “Now I will show you your suite.” Your suites are next to each other. Yours is the one in the middle of Floki’s and Ivar’s.

You insert your card in the electronic box to unlock the door. And when you enter your room you are breathless. Large windows overlook the city that is illuminated with all colors, the entrance opens on a living room where there is a round table - there is a welcome card with a bottle of champagne and two glasses - and two armchairs, a beige sofa, and a huge mirror on the wall. On your right, there’s the bedroom with a king-size bed with bright white sheets, and four pillows carefully placed at the head.

A little further in, you discover the bathroom. An Italian shower adorns the room. It is very large. You think there is plenty of room for two in it... Towels with the name of the hotel sewn on the edge are arranged between the two sinks.

You come back to the living room to find Ivar is sitting on one of the chairs, his crutch on the ground. The porter knocks on the door to bring you your suitcase. Ivar thanks him so that he can quickly leave.

“Are you satisfied with the room?” asks Ivar.

“It is… really… great and very beautiful, yes. Thank you, Ivar,” you answer, walking to the window to admire the view and the night that gradually falls over the city.

You hear Ivar get up and feel him getting closer behind you. He presses his body against yours, smells your hair, and then your neck before placing a sweet kiss on it. It makes you close your eyes. He puts his free hand on your belly to pull you more against him. You turn to him and decide to kiss him. He grabs your ass to knead it, then quickly regains his mind before letting himself be invaded by his desires. “It is better that you rest a little before dinner.”

He goes to the door but stops to give you some information. “You’ll get a visit from a hairdresser and a makeup artist. I hired them for you fo-”

“Ivar, you don’t have to do this for me”, you cut Ivar off but it’s something he hates.

“Did you just interrupt me, Y/N? Huh? It seems to me that I don’t have to repeat to myself that I AM the boss and that if I want to hire a makeup artist or something else, I am entitled to do it”, he whispers as he approaches you. You look down, blame yourself for interrupting him even though you know he hates it. But he says nothing and does nothing. He starts again with a more relaxed voice, “I’ll meet you later. I’ll lie down for a bit. You should do the same.” Then he slams your door as he leaves.

You sit on your bed, the tiredness of the journey – which can be said to have been painful – takes you into a light sleep and you doze off for a few minutes. You are awakened by a text that Hvitserk sends you:

“Hello beauty, are you well in England? My brother is not too stupid with you? lol xoxo”

“Hi Hvitty, everything is going well, I miss you! Xoxo.”

You prefer not to talk about Ivar, so the less you tell Hvitserk, the better. You throw your smartphone across the bed and let out a big sigh before getting up.

You decide to start getting ready, take a nice warm shower and wrap yourself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes. You haven’t unpacked your suitcase yet, so you open it up and take out your things to hang them in the wardrobe. In particular, the beautiful dress that one of your friends gave you – it was your parting gift. It’s a beautiful dress with thin black straps. It’s long, with a few rhinestones on the neckline. Not to mention your pair of Louboutins which oddly match the dress perfectly.

A few minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open the door and there are two men – that look quite eccentric – smiling at you. “Come on, we will take care of you!”

You let them in and they put their equipment in the living room. They have more makeup and hair accessories than an entire beauty salon. They put one of the chairs in the middle of the room and signal you to sit down.

After 45 minutes of styling, makeup, and dressing, you look like a goddess. Your long hair is dressed in an extremely well-structured bun – not a strand protrudes from your head. Your makeup matches the color of your eyes, your lips are dressed with a peach-colored lipstick, and the best thing, you have false eyelashes that enhance your doe-eyed look. You only wear a pair of dangling earrings in yellow gold with a thin bracelet.

You walk out of your room – your dress matches a small glittering black pouch and you walk up to the elevator to go down to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. You cross the hall before arriving at a small staircase that allows you to enter the restaurant. You place yourself at the top of the steps to look for Ivar in the distance.

After a few seconds of observation, you see him. He’s dressed in a black suit and white shirt. He didn’t bother to put on a tie, just left the top two buttons open on his shirt and his hair falls on his shoulders. He didn’t do his hair and Gods, how sexy he is! He greets two men, one older than the other, and from the resemblance, it seems that they are father and son.

Ivar is smiling, not an ounce of anger or sadness in his eyes. He is friendly with the people around him. You take the opportunity to observe his beautiful blue eyes and you feel a strange sensation invade your whole body. No, no, no, you don’t have to fall in love with him. Not now, maybe never!

This is the first time you see Ivar like this and you discover another facet of his so atypical personality. Ivar turns his gaze to the stairs and discovers you with your beautiful dress, the slit on one side of your thigh gives a glimpse of your leg. He has stars in his eyes that you can notice in the distance. He walks up to you while you walk down the steps. He comes to meet you. “Y/N, you are…I can’t find the words…you are…incredibly beautiful!”

“Thank you, Ivar. I find you very charming,” you decide to tease him a little, “too bad you didn’t wear a tie”.

Ivar leans down near your ear to whisper to you “I have a tie. It is in my pocket but it will be useful to me with you after our dinner”.

You open your eyes as Ivar looks at you. The evening and the night promises to be very long.

Ivar gives you his arm to accompany you to your table where Floki is already settled and talks with a young man you think must be barely younger than you. Ivar introduces you to your hosts.

“Y/N, I introduce you to Ecbert with whom we are currently dealing, and his son, Aethelwulf.”

It’s very impressive that you’re here.

“Good evening. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“I see that Ivar still has a good taste for beautiful women!” Ecbert says.

You all sit around the table, you between Ivar and this young man whose name you don’t know yet. Floki rushes to introduce you proudly to him. “My dear Alfred, I present to you, Y/N, our new recruit. She is very talented, you should get along well.”

Alfred takes your hand by surprise and gives you a kiss-hand worthy of a romantic film. “Good evening, Y/N. I am Alfred, the grandson of Ecbert and son of Aethelwulf. You are ravishing”

You feel your cheeks heat up, smile back, and say very politely, “Nice to meet you, Alfred. Thank you very much and your family for welcoming us to this sumptuous hotel.”

Ivar doesn’t miss a second of the scene. He puts a hand on your right thigh which is exposed and exerts a strong pressure so that your attention is back to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half hours after dinner – when you had to juggle between Ecbert’s open flirting, Alfred’s little attentions, and especially Ivar’s jealousy – you go back to your room. Ivar is, of course, by your side like a bodyguard. “If we weren’t negotiating with Ecbert, I would have gladly punched him in the face…” Ivar whispers as the elevator takes you to your floor.

“Ivar, don’t be irritated by it. I don’t care about this Ecbert. I answered only out of politeness and I especially remained very professional.”

“Yes it is true, you have been very professional. I am… how do you say…” Ivar is looking for his words with an embarrassed look on his face.

“Proud of me?” There’s a big smile on your face because you know that’s exactly what he can’t say.

Ivar sketches a slight smile and does not answer. He’s too proud to admit what he feels for you. You arrive in front of your suite and Ivar glances to the left and then to the right before slamming you against the door of your room while kissing you passionately.

You put your arms on his broad, muscular shoulders. He holds you with one hand on your waist as he stabilizes himself with his crutch in his other hand. His tongue quickly finds yours. He’s greedy for your body. He can’t help but bite your lower lip when he decides to break the kiss.

You both enter your suite without saying a word. You put your bag on the sofa and put your jewels on the little table. Ivar goes directly into your room, he settles at the edge of your bed and when you enter the room, your eyes unfailingly find his own. His blue eyes pierce you and he has a dark look. A dominating look.

“Please settle next to me,” his tone is calm but authoritarian, so you do it.

“Yes Ivar, what do you want from me?” your voice is soft and fearless.

“Do you trust me?” He turns to you and says these words.

With a dubious air, you say, “Yes, why?”

“Here, it is me who asks the questions! Remember what I told you about my tie?”

“Yes, I remember Ivar.”

“Know that you are mine now! No man will ever lay his hands on you.” He gets up hard to position himself in front of you and pulls out a grey tie from his pocket. “Take off your dress and give me your hands!”

You swallow then pass each strap of your dress over your shoulders, you make a small movement of the pelvis to make it pass under your buttocks and finally you let it slide along your legs. It falls at your feet. From now on, you’re only wearing your black lace thong.

Then you turn your palms towards the sky and hand them over to Ivar. He ties your hands with his tie, makes two turns to join them, and ends up with a loop tight enough but not too tight so that he doesn’t cut off your blood circulation.

“Now lie down on the bed.” This a different Ivar standing in front of you. You don’t say a word and you do what he tells you to do. You step back slowly and you manage to sit on the edge of your bed. Ivar supports himself with the edge of the bed then drops his crutch which falls to the ground. He takes off his suit jacket and puts it delicately on the chair behind him, and undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one. Then he drops it along his arms and poses it on the jacket.

With the strength of his arms, he crawls up to you on the bed and hovers above you “Are you ready to satisfy all my desires and that I satisfy yours?”

“Yes…Ivar…”

It’s going to be a long, warm night…

**********

Thank you all for your reading

@youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @peachyboneless​ @bonniebird​ @salt-is-a-terrible-currency​ @saldelys​ @flokisdaughter​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @ijustwant2write​ @thevikingsheaux​ @castielsangelsx​ @alexhoghsource​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @laketaj24​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @ivarsshieldmadien​ @hrhbella​ @lisinfleur​ @heathenarmyimagines​ @car-karaoke​ @vikings-imagine​

[ceruleanmusings]

First and Foremost

Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Word Count: 5.7k Summary: Mickey goes to cheer James up after a brutal verbal beating by Gustavo. Contents: mild flirting, teasing, show-standard humor, sadness Tag: @mystic-scripture​ @foxesandmagic​ @witchofinterest​ @perhapspearl​ @raging-violets​ @lareiism​ @ocfairygodmother​ @ocappreciationtag​

The bright orange vinyl began sticking to his cheek, trapping his heavy sighs against his warm skin but James didn’t care. Why should he care? It wasn’t as if he had a modeling gig to run off to so the inevitable red line pressing into his cheek could stay. It wasn’t as if he had an acting gig to prepare for so he could continue to lay flopped on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, wrinkling his clothes. It wasn’t as if he had a solo moment in a song to rehearse for so he could let his throat roll an agonized vocalization around in his chest.

He'd left Rocque Records hours ago and yet he still heard Gustavo’s shouts echoing in his head: “Stop smiling like that, I hate it!”, “A garbage disposal has better timing than you!”, “I could replace you with a mop and it wouldn’t make any difference!”, and his favorite, “Okay, do it again, but this time, SING ACTUAL NOTES!”

Clearly, Gustavo was wrong. …He had way better hair than a mop so, actually, it would make a difference!

James uttered another body wrenching sigh.

It just wasn’t fair. He spent so much time rehearsing, getting his vocals warmed up, loosening his muscles to better execute dance moves. He put his all into being a pop star! Okay, sometimes he could get distracted by the lights and the glitz and glamor but who wouldn’t? Pretty people wanted to dress him, sculpt his hair, perfect his image (not that they had to do much on that front), have them joint their ranks, put him in the spotlight where he belonged. Why was it a bad thing? When it came down to it, he wanted this. He always wanted this!

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan didn’t get it. He loved his buds, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see their eye rolls, hear their scoffs, or feel their dismissive aside glances when he talked about a potential modelling job or how he was, in fact, the best person to lead a song (or sing the whole thing, why split hairs?), or when he shared his dream of buying a house to turn it into a personal salon/display museum for his bandanas. (It makes sense to keep it all in one place!)

All he was trying to do was make his dreams a reality. It wasn’t as if he was pushing his buds off a cliff to get there. It’d happen eventually. It was inevitable. (The recognition, not the cliff-pushing.) He had the face, he had the voice, he had the talent, he had the body, he had the face. He was born for this life. He was meant to be doing this!

But no one else seemed to notice.

Groaning, James turned onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head and curled his knees up to his chest. If Katie were around, she’d point and laugh at him, maybe say he was being a big baby or some other phrase with big words he didn’t understand. Thankfully she, the guys, and Mama Knight were off at an LA Kings game. He’d been looking forward to the game for weeks but going didn’t appeal to him after the day he had. He’d taken enough hits to watch other people get tossed around like a ragdoll.

Sometime later he heard the distinct sound of someone climbing the stairs to get to the swirly slide entrance and yet he still didn’t move. Instead, he watched dust motes float and around the shafts of gold light seeping in through the blinds.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ordinarily James would’ve jumped up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, double-checking his reflection in his lucky pocket mirror to ensure he was presentable and his muscles were at their peak. He couldn’t let her see him at anything other than his best. He was James Diamond! He didn’t do mediocre! This time, though, he stayed still, listening as she came down the swirly slide, the rubber on her docs tapping against the ground on her dismount. It was the only time she didn’t knock before entering. The door was always open, and people came and went as they pleased, but not Mickey. She made sure to knock every time. It was polite, she explained, looking at them all as if they’d been raised by wolves.

He mentally followed her footsteps—always with that cute little bounce to it—around the back of the couch heading to the island until she came into view. She dressed comfortably as always: dread locks pulled back into a half updo with gold rings and cuffs, her favorite cropped white *NSYNC hoodie depicting the image of their first album cover, dark skinny jeans, pale blue docs and a makeup-free face. She never wore makeup except for occasions where it called for it such as appearances, interviews, and photoshoots. James never thought she needed it.

“I’m just picking up my Tupp…er…ware…” He watched as Mickey’s eyebrows collided and she leaned to the side, peering at him as if she didn’t recognize him on the couch. He didn’t blame her; he was sure he wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see himself right now. “James? Are you okay?” she asked, taking a few steps closer, tucking a lock behind her ear.

James’ lips pushed out another sigh. “I’m sad,” he replied. No sense in hiding the obvious. His lower lip already dropped to a pout upon uttering the words and he couldn’t fight the wave washing over him, dragging his mood further (if that were possible).

Shoving her hands into the front of her pockets she approached. “’Cause of Gustavo?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

He blinked. “That’s it.”

Her eyebrow arched. “No it’s not. I can see it all over your pretty face.” Sliding a hand out her pocket, she wiggled a pointed finger at him, motioning in circles around his face.

“Hmph. At least you think it’s pretty,” he mumbled.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, turning her knees to the side, propping her elbow on the cushion and her cheek on her fist while turning to him. He looked back at her, taking in her freckle dotted nose. Her dark eyes squinted for a moment, mimicking the small pull to her mouth until they both relaxed. “What’s up? Besides the Gustavo part. I was wearing soundproof headphones while recording my bass lines today—I still heard him through it. And while that sucked, I know that’s not the only issue.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.”

“James, you can’t go an elevator ride without needing someone to talk to.” Her mouth quirked in the corner, bolstering the tease to her words. He managed a small smile. “Speaking of which. Where are the guys?”

“They went to a Kings game.”

“Are you meeting them there?”

“I didn’t want to go.”

Her eyes widened, dark brown lighting to reflect her surprise. “You didn’t want to go to a King’s game?”

James twisted his mouth to the side, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. Of course he wanted to go. Everything about hockey appealed to him: the crisp air filling his lungs, the crackling excitement plucking his energized nerves, the sharp snap of wood smacking against rubber, the scuffing of sharp blades on the ice, the cold adding a natural blush to his cheeks, the hot girls dressed in jerseys, the warm nacho cheese sliding down his throat, the way the bright lights lit him on his good side (both of them). But, even with the Kings and Ducks matchup, it wasn’t enough to get him off the couch.

“Well, what about hanging by the pool? It’s Golden Hour.” She reached out and poked his cheek. “Your favorite time of day.”

That was true. Nothing made his selfies better than the effect of a filter without actually having to use one. He thought about it for a second, shook his head, and sighed again. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Wow.” Her lashes fluttered due to her rapid blinking. A hum sounded behind her turned down mouth and she reached out, squeezing his knee. He felt a tug somewhere in the pit of his stomach at her touch, like a cork easing its way out of a bottle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Silence. Then: “It just doesn’t make sense!” And it all came pouring out, the frustrations and grievances. Not just from that day but from the past year and a half, from the start of it all. How they didn’t want him, they wanted Kendall. How no matter how hard he tried it wasn’t good enough. How, even though he had the talent, and knew it in his bones, it didn’t match the “fire” they looked for. How he was dragged along to form a group in a business he’d always dreamed of being in. How he was constantly shuttled back and forth between his parents, passed along like a discarded accessory. How he was overlooked time and time again (which he still wasn’t even sure how that was possible with his height and face and style.) How he was dismissed and taken as being “dramatic” when he opted not to go to the Kings game.

It was that feeling, the want—or lack thereof—which kept him glued to the couch. It seemed everyone could direct it towards anyone and anything else but him. No one chose him. No one wanted him.

The entire time he spoke Mickey stayed quiet save for the occasional hums to accompany her head nods. By the end she offered up a clicking tsk and a welcomed, “Aww, dude, I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.” She looked at him and he looked right back, wondering for a minute if they were having some sort of staring contest until he got cross-eyed and had to blink. Her shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, lips curling upwards in the corners. Silence stretched between them. James’s eyes widened slightly, taking on a pointed look.

“Is that it?” James finally prompted.

“Is what it?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m being dramatic? You’re not going to give me some advice? You’re not going to give me some pep talk?”

Mickey snorted. “And what kind of advice could I give you? To just get over it?” James nodded rapidly. “You’re upset. Telling you to get over it won’t change that. Besides, I get it.”

“You do?”

“That feeling you have to work twice as hard just to get the recognition you feel you rightfully deserve only to be overlooked?” She let out a little bitter laugh, twisting the end of one of her dreads around her finger. “Yeah. I know that feeling a little too well; life made sure of it.” A second later her eyes widened and then squinted, as if seeing something in the distance. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clicked her tongue. In a flash, she got off the floor and James watched her make quick strides to the door, opening it with a flourish only to pull it shut behind her. He stared at the swinging jackets hanging off the key shaped holder, an incredulous expression popping onto his face.

“Well thanks for the talk, Mickey! I feel so much better!” James called out to the closed door. He rolled onto his back, unfurling his legs, staring up at the tall ceiling. Geeze, first Gustavo, then his buds, and now Mickey. He thought people cared about him but clearly he was wrong! Why did he even like her in the first place?

A knock sounded on the door. Uncurling himself, James sat up, head tilting in curiosity. A second later the door opened, and a sheepish Mickey stepped through it. “Forgot, I don’t need to knock for myself,” she muttered, rubbing her palms down the legs of her jeans.

Nevermind, she came back. He liked her again.

She drummed her fingers against her thighs and then headed for the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. Do you want a juice box?”

James’s head bobbed from side to side. Now that his chest didn’t feel as if it would cave in, it felt “Yeah, I could go for one.” She pulled one from the fridge and tossed it to him. He easily caught it with one hand as he swung his legs down from the couch, settling on the middle cushion facing the tv. He popped off the straw and stabbed it through the foil-covered hole on top. He didn’t pretend it was Gustavo’s face beneath the straw. Not at all. He took a long pull of the watermelon flavored drink and swallowed. It helped, but only a little.

He watched as Mickey closed the refrigerator and started opening and closing a few cabinets. She pulled a few bowls out of one and set them on the counter and then pulled open a few drawers, taking out measuring cups and spoons and knives.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, there’s really no point in bringing back Tupperware that’s empty is there?” She asked, eyebrows lifting. “It’s downright blasphemy.”

His stomach quivered at that. Food? She was making food? As much as a small part of him still wanted nachos from the Staples Center, he could trade it for whatever she made. If magic existed, she possessed it with how good her food turned out. Not that Mama Knight’s wasn’t a great cook herself, nothing beat her cheesy potato soup or Fishstick Fridays or her amazing snickerdoodles, Mickey just tended to make more on the dessert side. And while his body was a temple and he treated it right, sometimes the temple wanted a big fat slice of pie. To please the Gods. (Him, James was the God. No matter how much Logan disagreed, the peasant).

“What are you making? Can I have some?”

“It’s a surprise but sure. It’s gonna take me some time, though.”

James reeled in his pout and protest, as much as he hated having to wait history showed it tended to be worth it. Shifting off the couch, he opened the cabinet beneath the tv and looked at the array of DVDs staring back at him. He bypassed his usual go-tos—Die Hard, Bring it On, the Entourage series, Fast and Furious, Step Brothers, Zoolander, Marley & Me—stopping at the smaller cases on the end, holding white discs with Mama Knight’s handwriting scrawled over the surface depicting dates from a few years back. James shuffled through the cases as if they were a deck of cards, stopping on one he remembered from freshman year, near the end of the season.

The Meadowlark High Coyotes were 7-9; they needed to win at least four more games to make it to the playoffs before their season was cut short. They were down by three points at 4-6 against Willow Grove High’s Rams with ten minutes left. Kendall had been benched for fighting after getting his face smashed into the plexiglass on a breakaway (it was a cheap hit). Carlos was ejected for leaving goal to bum rush the player who executed the hit, trying to pants him. And Logan sat on the bench, his nose buried in his roster book, scribbling away, making notes for the coach to review after the game. That left him the lone wingman to turn the tide on a penalty shot and any scoring chance he obtained afterwards. Yes there was another wingman, but he may as well not have been on the ice with James taking the lead.

He popped it into the DVD player and fell back into the memory of the day, sank into the swell of cheers, the shrill whistles, the thudding beat of his heart in his ears, the rush as he glided over the ice, carrying the puck to the goal shot after shot after shot. And the chanting, oh the chanting, it may as well have been tattooed on his heart: Dia-mond, Dia-mond, Dia-mond! Only his stick slapping against the puck broke the cheering. Crack! Crack! Crack! James rushed the goal and sent the puck sailing through the air, nestling in the top right and left corners of the net, lighting the lamp. The crowd went wild. His team rushed the ice, lifting him up in the air as sirens and whistles went off.

James paused on the zoom on his face, the light in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. Someone had yanked off his helmet so they could ruffle his sweaty hair, which still looked good compared to the others, thank you very much. (Helmet hair was not something he ever had to combat, he made sure of it.)

They won. They chose him and he won. When he was picked, they all succeeded. That was the point.

He scanned backwards, watching the play in reverse, pressed play, and watched their victory unfold. Again. And again. And again. Forward, back, forward, back. Shoot, score, repeat. Every watch brought back another shot of exhilaration, another round of satisfaction pulsing through his veins. Gustavo had drained that feeling right out of him.

“What’re you watching?” Mickey’s head hung next to his as she leaned over the back of the couch. “Is that you? Oh, you were all so teeny!”

James pouted. He wasn’t teeny. Yeah, he was a couple years younger than now and had a bit of a rounder face but all the days playing hockey he’d shed his childhood weight. And he’d hit his growth spurt, so he was already taller than the guys in their class. Despite the slight sting of the comment, he answered, “Freshman year hockey game. Against our rivals, the Rams.”

“Did you win?”

James scoffed. “Of course we did!” Big Time Rush didn’t lose. Once they all joined the team, they were a force to be reckoned with. “All thanks to me, even. Kendall and the guys were benched for ‘unsportsmanlike behavior’.” His finger quotes stabbed the air as he rolled his eyes.

“Why? What’d they do?”

“Watch.” Within a few seconds the scene unfolded again: Kendall on a breakaway, for all intents and purposes prime for a good shot. Then someone from the other team bashed into him, clearly committing a foul. Kendall bounced off the plexiglass as sharp whistles and booing jeers filled the air. Cheeks red, either due to the cold or anger, Kendall threw down his stick and gloves, whipped off his helmet, and charged for a Ram. He managed a hit on one before two Rams came up, grabbed him, threw him into the plexiglass again, and squished his face against it, dragging it from side to side. Mickey sucked a hissing breath in between her teeth, face scrunching up to a look of pain.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“Hurt worse when the guy wasn’t even called for it—the refs were from their town,” James explained at the look of disbelief crossing her face. “But I get the penalty shot and score more goals to clinch the win for us.”

“Bet that felt good.”

He shrugged. Good wasn’t the right word. Amazing wasn’t the right word. He didn’t think a word existed to properly encompass how that day felt. He paused the video and scanned it backwards again, his thumb hovering over the play button as his eyes took in their reflections on the tv screen. Namely how close she leaned to his head. Turning to her, he eyed her close-up profile. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so,” James said with a flirtatious smile. Motioning to her with the remote he added, “You don’t have to come up with an excuse to get close.”

Her head tilted to the side, her studying him this time. “Would it make you feel better?”

He blinked. Uh…what? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. That wasn’t how things went with them. He’d flirt, she’d rebuff him, he’d try again later. That’s how their friendship worked, among both agreeing blue was, in fact, a flavor (suck it, Logan!), her helping him with English homework while he helped her with vocal work, taking trips to the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients (her for her cooking, him for his organic, clean, homemade facial mask), and splitting the s’mores skillet at Fun Burger on his cheat day. Not that he didn’t like this turn of events, he wasn’t stupid. Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the spotlight, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Still, he shook his head and pinched his arm to be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream, that she had, in fact, asked if kissing him would make him feel better. His fingers pressed into his skin and a pinch of pain shot up his arm. His eyes widened. He was definitely awake!

“Uh…sure?” He mentally admonished himself, hearing how unsure he sounded. Who talked like that? Not him, that’s for sure. He was much cooler than that. He cleared his throat, deepened his voice, turned his eyes to smolder, and said, “I mean, yeah. We could give it a shot.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He did as he was told, eyes slamming shut. James’ chest swelled and relaxed as he took in and let out a long breath. Not that he was nervous. He’d kissed plenty of girls before. Hell, once he’d kissed three girls in a half hour (thank you spin the bottle!) So this was nothing to worry about. No big deal. It’s just Mickey. Just the girl he’d been into for the past year. His palms sweating had nothing to do with it, that happened sometimes. Not a lot. Okay, never. Not when it came to kissing girls. So it had to be some sort of new medical condition he’d need to get looked at. Along with the shaking. And his heart thudding against his chest. He made a mental note to get that looked at too.

He felt her hovering in front of him, close enough for that strange sensation to itch and curl beneath his skin, anticipation cracking like a livewire. A strong swoop lurched in his stomach when she asked “Ready?”, so close he smelled something sweet on her breath. Vanilla? A lock of her hair brushed against the side of his face, sending a shot of something pleasant down his spine.

He nodded, swiping his tongue against his bottom lip. (Not too wet, not too dry. Couldn’t have her thinking his lips were like sandpaper.) Breath? He thought back. Last thing he ate were a few ants-on-a-log back at the studio. Peanut Butter wasn’t what he’d go with, but it would do in a pinch.

Okay. You’re James Diamond! You’re in a world-famous band! You have great hair! You have great style! You have great lips! They’re perfectly pouty and pink and fantastic. It’s just a kiss. You can do this. Annnd….go!

James leaned forward, pursing his lips. Something touched his lips. His eyebrows lowered. Huh, her lips were a lot colder than he’d imagined. Just as smooth, though. And a little…pointy? What? Before he could react, something gave way and shot between his teeth, heading to the back of his throat. He coughed, the object shooting forward, bouncing on his tongue.

His eyes popped open, granting him the sight of Mickey and her shit-eating grin. His tongue rolled the object around in his mouth, smooth on all sides except for one point. A rush of chocolate swarmed his taste buds. A Hersehey’s kiss. He blinked, staring up at her.

“Did the Earth move for ya, honey?” she asked sweetly, her soft southern accent igniting the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Very funny,” James grumbled, chewing the cold bit of chocolate into small pieces. It melted fast on his tongue. Pushing a hand through his hair, he flopped back against the couch, doing his best to avoid her gaze. But that smile, so bright and satisfied, drew him back in and he found his frown lifting upwards.

Still grinning, she dropped down on the couch next to him. He noticed the plate in her hands, the surface covered with an array of purple swirls and designs resting atop white sponge dotted with color.

Funfetti cupcakes. His favorite.

She was forgiven.

------

“She moves left, she moves right, she goes left again-oh! Fake out! She’s on a breakaway! There’s no one standing between her and the net! Will she make it?” With a lunge, Mickey slapped a pretzel rod against the Oreo in the middle of the table. James dropped to his knees, opening his mouth in time for the cookie to slide against the smooth surface, coast past his teeth, and land on his tongue. Goal! “She does! She scores! And the Missles are the table hockey champions of the world!” Throwing her arms into the air, Mickey danced a little victory jig, chomping the pretzel rod in her hand as if putting an exclamation point at the end of a sentence.

Chuckling, James chewed the Oreo. Ordinarily he would already be mentally preparing his routine at the gym the next day to counteract all the sugar he’d eaten but he could skip it for one day. Tossing his own pretzel rod onto the table—he wasn’t going to make an exception for sodium, not when bloat could set in—he stood, brushing any miniscule bit of dirt off his knees. “Why didn’t you go to the hockey game again?” he asked.

Mickey’s eyebrow arched and she waved her hand around the room, motioning to the table, the leftover cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter, and Bring it On playing on the tv in the background “And miss out on all this fun?” She winked and took another bite of the pretzel rod. “Not a chance.”

James smiled, a rush of warmth spreading through him.

The door burst open; Carlos, Kendall, and Logan rushed in, hooting, and hollering, waving towels and hats in a flurry. Katie and Jennifer entered behind them, wearing identical expressions, half of amusement and half of wariness.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, walking around the table. “How was the game?” Her answer came as a wall of sound when Kendall, Carlos, and Logan screamed in her face. Blinking rapidly, she wiggled a finger in her ear as she leaned away from them. “That good, huh?”

“It was awesome!” Carlos shouted. “First the Ducks were in the lead and then the Kings caught up to them but then the Ducks were in the lead again! And during the ice cleanings Bailey and Wild Wing came out and got into a shootout. And then they played musical chairs which is silly, you know, because why would animals need to sit on chairs—ooh! Cupcakes!” Breaking off, he made a dashing dive for the kitchen counter.

“Those are mine!” James shouted, making Carlos freeze with a cupcake halfway to his mouth. A whimpering sound fell out of his mouth as he looked back and forth between James and the cupcake.

“Be nice, there’s enough for them to have one,” Mickey said, rubbing James’s arm. “Go ahead, Carlos.” She barely finished her sentence when Carlos stuffed it into his mouth, paper still attached.

“Dude.” Kendall bumped James on the arm with the back of his hand. “We had to keep Carlos from tackling Bailey the lion for thumping Wild Wing’s bill in the stands. Could’ve used you to hold him back.”

“Is that the only reason?” James asked.

Kendall scoffed. “Of course not! I had no one else to cringe with when they messed up the National Anthem. You weren’t there to list off every stat for the Kings or the Ducks—down to what conditioner they most likely used.” James pushed a laugh out of his nose. “After the game ended, they let us skate around for a bit. T’somethin’ I always dreamed about, skating one of the biggest NHL rinks. Wasn’t the same without my wingman there to catch my passes without fail.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’re sorry we didn’t take your feelings seriously. Gustavo was rough on you today. We should’ve stayed with you, made sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t think I was being overdramatic?”

“Oh no, we totally did,” Kendall said, making James roll his eyes, “but halfway through the game I remembered that you get like that when it comes to things that are important to you. And it’s not fair for me, for us, to push that aside. So I’m sorry. We cool?” He extended his hand,

“We’re cool. You know I can’t stay mad at my bud,” James replied, clasping Kendall’s hand to pull him into a quick hug.

“And on that note, it’s time for me to go,” Mickey said, squeezing past them. Clutched in her hands were two Tupperware containers filled with cupcakes. “Are you feeling better?” Kendall’s eyes quickly ping-ponged between the two; he mumbled something about needing to polish his hockey puck and backed away.

James’ mind quickly scanned through a list of things he could say to keep her around a little longer. He came up with nothing. “I am, yeah,” James admitted. “Thanks for sticking around and keeping me company, Mickey.”

“Any time. If you ever want a rematch against the Missles, you know where to find me. We’ll be ready for you Diamondheads.” Leaning past James, she called out “see you, guys!” only to get distracted hand waves back from Kendall, Carlos, Logan, and Katie as they watched the game highlight on the news. She shrugged. “See ya, James,” she said, quickly tilting her fingers at him in a rippling wave.

He waved back, watching as she left the apartment. The door closed with a soft click. James turned on his heel only to stop in his tracks, noticing every pair of eyes in the room pointed on him. Eyebrows crinkling, his head tilted to the side. Usually he deserved attention, basked in it even, but he wasn’t sure what he did to get it this time. “What?” he finally asked.

“You were here with Mickey alone all afternoon,” Kendall said. “What happened?”

James shrugged, approaching the couch. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. We talked, watched some hockey, and messed around.”

“So you never hit on her?” Logan asked.

Kind of. “No, not really.” Hershey kiss substitutes didn’t count.

“Dude! This was your chance!” Carlos sprayed bits of uneaten cupcake out of his mouth as he shouted. Uttering a noise of disgust, Logan wiped the side of his face, shooting such a scathing look at Carlos it made him behind Katie. James laughed at the sight.

“Yeah, that’s not like you, James. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Kendall said.

“I’m feelin’ great, guys, really,” he assured them. “Gimmie another cupcake.” As he reached for the plate in Katie’s hand, he spotted something white under the pillow Kendall leaned against. He yanked it out with one strong pull. “Oh shoot,” he muttered. He got a series of asynchronous what?s answered him. “It’s Mickey’s sweatshirt. She forgot it.”

“Give it to her tomorrow. She’ll be at the studio,” Kendall pointed out.

James took in Kendall’s nonchalance with an incredulous shake of his head. He couldn’t do that. Well…he could but he couldn’t. Even if the built-in excuse for her to come back to the apartment was enticing, he wouldn’t feel right holding onto it. Not when he knew of her attachment to it, not just due to how soft and comfortable the sweatshirt was but to the band as well. When he thought about not having his Lucky Comb on him, even for a second, it sent shivers down his spine.

“No, I’ll just try and catch her at the elevator.” Clutching the sweatshirt tight in his hands, James dashed for the door. It barely opened far enough for him to fit through before he found himself out in the hall. He ran around a corner, nearly clipping it, slowing when he heard Mickeys’ voice.

“Thanks again for being so understanding. I know it was last minute…”

“Girl, it’s okay,” Jo said back. Hmm? James peered around the corner, spying Mickey and Jo standing in front of the elevator doors. She clutched a rolled-up script in her hand. “We can always go another day. It’s no big deal.”

“Thanks. James just looked so…defeated.” Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like that before. I just…I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“I get it. I’m not going to be mad at you for being there for a friend,” Jo said, waving her hand in the air. “Buut…you’ll also be extra forgiven if I can have a cupcake.” Her eyebrows wiggled as she tapped a quick rhythm on the Tupperware lid.

Mickey laughed, popping the lid. “No problem.”

Jo eagerly dove for a cupcake, peeling the paper off halfway before taking a bite at the base of the treat. She brought a finger up to her mouth as she chewed, wiping away a stray smear of cream cheese frosting. “So…you must really like James to cancel going to that pie making class you’d been looking forward to for weeks.”

What!? James pressed his lips together, biting on them. The pulse of pain fell into sync with his rapid heartbeat. Jo’s lips curled in the corners and, beneath the hallway lighting, James swore he saw devil horns pop up on her head.

Mickey rolled her eyes. James squinted. Was that a blush on Mickey’s cheeks or a trick of the light? “Don’t even start with me, I gotta deal with all that at home.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Mickey stepped backwards into the elevator, jabbing at a button with her elbow. “…And I don’t not like him. But don’t tell anyone that!”

Jo mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Swallowing the yelp fighting to shoot up his throat, James turned and headed back to 2J. He slipped into the apartment under the noise of aliens and troopers getting blown up in Biohazard 5 and Carlos’ jeers as he held his hand in front of Logan’s face.

“Did you catch her?” Kendall yelled over the noise, eyes glued to the tv.

“No, I missed her.” James made a beeline for the bedrooms, a soft smile sitting upon his lips. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Missin’ You is Terrible- Part 1: Missin’ You

Calum isn’t looking for deep feelings, just for some fun. But he’s pretty sure friends with benefits isn’t supposed to go like this. Black!Female Reader. 

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_______________

I’m in your city. 

It is not his smoothest line. Even as he drafts the message, he wears a doopy ass grin, giggling to himself. He can imagine her eye roll, the purse of her lips, the tsk of her tongue sliding over the roof of her mouth and the back of her teeth. He watches the gray bubbles appear on his screen, the circles shifting from light gray to dark gray as he imagines her fingers tapping away at the screen. 

What’s that supposed to mean to me, Hood?

Calum scoffs. She likes giving him a hard time. I have a day off here too. 

You still haven’t answered my question.

She’s already starting. She’s going to make him say it, make him beg for it already. He’d normally hate this. He was normally direct. If he wanted sex, he’d say so. If he didn’t, he knew how to open his mouth. But she made this different. She made this fun. She’d play annoyed, unphased, but he knows that deep down her gut twisted just like his. He knows that no matter how many times she faked annoyance, she’d crack. Her giggle would escape her in tufts and she’d snort sometimes. But only sometimes. He can see the grin on her face, the way she’s tugging her lip between her teeth. 

Her teeth, fuck. He loves the feeling of her teeth grazing over his bottom lip. Even better than that though is the feeling of her teeth sinking into his flesh, his lip, tugging it a little. The mere thought leaves him nearly moaning in the dressing room. He taps away to reply, It means you should be at the show and pick me up tonight. 

Well lucky for you, a very nice man sent me tickets. I will be at the show. 

Calum stares at his screen. He waits. Is she going to confirm that she’ll pick him up? He asked her to the show, but didn’t really confirm if they would see each other. He wasn’t sure what her schedule would look like and didn’t want to be too demanding. He groans when nothing comes through for a solid minute or two. You’re an ass. 

But you like my ass. 

I do. I really fucking do. Calum bites down on his lips, inhaling deeply as the bubbles appear again. 

I’ll pick you up after the show. But you’re going to have to either get me access to the back of the venue or hike your cute ass to event parking. 

Calum pushes to his feet. He’d rather not be seen walking to her car. It’s nothing against her. He just knows the second fans catch an ounce of suspicious activity, they will run a mile with it. He’s always kept a low profile, no matter how hard it was. He presses the phone to his ear, reaching for his bag. He rips a page from his journal. She answers on the second ring. 

“What kind of car do you drive?” he asks. She rattles of the brand and make. Calum writes it down. “Plate number?”

“What’s this for? You know my car.”

“It’s for security, so they know I’m not walking to some fucking strangers car. They’ll probably escort me, but still they might ask or want need it to make sure who are who you say you are.”

“Just tell them it’s the hella attractive girl.”

Calum laughs. “Yeah because that narrows it down so well.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I got you from the hotel in the morning,” she offers. 

Calum shakes his head, walking to over to one of the bodyguards. “That’s too long.”

“You’ll be exhausted after your show.”

“I’m always exhausted, babycakes.”

She exhales hard, the phone crackle a little. He knows what that nickname does to her. “You’re in for it now,” she whispers. “You’re dead in the water, Hood.” The call ends. Calum’s not even shocked. He slides his phone back into his pocket, handing over the information he has. He describes her, maybe a little too in depth but the guard doesn’t say anything about it. 

They talk to the head coordinator and event staffing. It’s not until an hour or so after soundcheck that Calum gets confirmation that a someone will be on the lookout for her car and will escort him. He’d fight against this, but knows he’ll ultimately lose that battle. 

“You’ll be back to the hotel in time for the drive right?”

Calum nods. “Of course.”

Then with a bit of smirk and a wink, the guard adds, “Just don’t get into too much trouble.” The laugh bubbles up in his chest, spilling past his lips. Calum shakes his head at the antic. If he only knew how much trouble, Calum would be getting into. 

Calum’s not sitting on the couch, more like laying against it, though is butt is still technically in a sitting position, Michael giggling at him. He flips him off, teasingly. “Leave me alone, Clifford.” Then in responds slides in further from his barely upright position. 

“It’s your back you’re breaking,” Michael chuckles and then goes back to his phone. 

Calum’s phone vibrates against his stomach. He pushes back up to see the notification. New iMessage- A-1. It’s an inside joke. She’a A-1 and he’s Steak Sauce, though in her phone it’s spelt like S-O-S a joke off the band acronym. She was way too pleased with herself over the pun. Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her how cheesy it is, so he lets himself forever reside in her contacts as SteakSOS and gets a chuckle every time he happens to see it. 

He slides to unlock the notification and a shaky breath leaves him. Fuck, fuck, of course. It shouldn’t even make him this hot and bothered, but what he did not think would happen is that he’d open that message to a video. It’s just a video of her hand, pulling up fishnet thigh highs. But her nails are shaped into a point and painted a pretty yellow against the warm red depths of her brown skin. He watches as she flexes, gripping at unclothed thigh before the video ends. He can feel the way the sharp point digging into his shoulders now. He can imagine that way her fingers feel dancing across his skin. 

He plays it again, there’s no sound--he’s thankful. Another message follows it. Did I spend two hours at a nail salon just to send you that? Yes I did. Did I spend another thirty minutes trying to fucking record one handed? Sure did, angel.

Angel. His heart nearly stops as he exhales shakily again at the nickname. “You alright?” Michael asks. His tone rings with amusement. When Calum meets his eye, he can see the smile decorating Michael’s face. He knows, Calum figures. It’s not like Calum’s exactly hidden this friendship, friends with benefits relationship, from the boys. But he tries not to make it so obvious. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Calum says with a chuckle. It’s breathy and nowhere near convincing. But Michael doesn’t push it. He smiles with a nod. Whatever is happening, Michael knows Calum will be sporting marks come tomorrow. 

You’re not just trying to kill me. You’re trying to swallow me fucking hole huh? 

In more ways than one, she replies. 

Calum groans, throwing his head back into the cushions. “I hate her,” he laughs to himself. He sits there, reliving their last meeting. They were in his car, sitting at the edge of the beach, watching over into the water. Or more like the water was watching them fog up the windows. 

His brain wonders down all the random assortment of memories of them together. He lands on their first meeting. Calum started noticing her about a year and a half ago. She went to the same coffee shop that he frequented. She was always hunched over some stack of paper, always tapping away at her computer. He always wanted to ask her what she was doing. But he found himself afraid, always choosing to watch from afar as she typed away, as she scratched words onto the page. She looked endearing with three red pens stuck in her hair. 

Then one day, he caught her, head resting on her forearms. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he did notice some kids eyeing her things. So he went over and sat across from her while he waited for her drink. Make it seem like they were together. He didn’t have anything planned for the day. He just needed some coffee. He didn’t mean sitting there, just to make sure that her belongings didn’t get stolen. After about twenty minutes, he noticed her stirring, so he gathered his empty cup. Calum was sliding his phone back into his pocket when she spoke. “Well, I haven’t just woken up from a nap. I have died and gone to fucking heaven.”

He snapped his head at her, the heat flooding his cheeks. He couldn’t really blush, it never really showed up. But god, did his face feel warm. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping and some kids looked like they were planning something. I sat down to try to and deter them. They left, but then I was worried someone else would try and come up. So I figured I’d sit here until you woke up.”

“Thank you. You’re a literal angel.” 

They talked every all the time in the coffee shop. And then the coffee shop turned into bars. Bars turned into bedrooms. Bedrooms turned into the back of cars, the back of cars turned into her spending the night. Spending the night turned into baking at nearly two AM. Baking at nearly two AM turned into laying out in his backyard pondering the universe. Then she moved further up the Californian coast and out of the city to work for an independent publishing company; she’s happier there. Calum is glad for her. Just misses her two AM baking excursions. 

Now, they rarely get to see each other. Now it’s Calum texting her, I’m in your city as if he didn’t make that two hour drive anytime he wanted to see her. But it’s fun this way. Things feel more intense this way. They turn out all the stops. Which leads Calum here, eyes closed, grinning like an idiot, the ghost of her touch tickling his skin. He pops off the couch, heading to the bathroom, phone in hand. Payback’s a bitch, he hopes she knows that. 

He Facetimes her. No videos, no pictures. He has a strict rule against it. The call rings loudly, bouncing off the concrete walls. She picks up, only to see Calum’s tattooed hand rubbing over his crotch. He lets the sigh fall over his lips at the pressure. He’s needed this, he could feel tightness growing in his pants, the way his lower gut ached for release. He couldn’t give her that. But he could tease her; he could release some of the tension for his own benefit. A moan is building in him. He presses his lips together, refusing to crack just yet. But she knows. 

“Let me hear you, angel,” she commands. “If you’re going to sit there and be this much of a gotdamn tease, at least give me the satisfaction of hearing your sweet moans.”

Calum could. He could give her that. But he won’t. He ends the call, exhaling hard. His phone is about to explode with messages from her. One message comes in, he feels the phone shake in his hand. Then another comes in. Then another. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth one. Calum grins to himself, finally taking his hand away from his crotch and then running it through his hair. He’s in trouble now. 

It’s while the boys and he are eating a small dinner before the show that his phone buzzes again. It hasn’t buzzed in a while after her rant about him being “a motherfucking ass”. I’m at the venue. She describes where’s she’s parked, in a parking deck on the back side of the venue stating “if she were any higher up, she’d touch God and any further back she’d revert herself to the 1950’s”. Calum alerts a bodyguard who takes an event security guard to investigate where she is. 

That’s not very descriptive, you know, Calum replies. 

Another text comes in, about ten minutes later. Clearly it was, because I can spot two of your goons headed for my car. 

_________

Calum can’t spot her in the crowd. He tries, looking up the upper levels of the venue. But he can’t see anything clearly. He wishes he could but that’s not going to happen with lights. It’s when Luke gets a talking break that the flashing lights die down. But he can’t see through the haze. He takes out an inner ear, trying listen for her voice. But doesn’t catch anything. Then he gets to talk. “How are you guys doing tonight?” The crowd roars to life. He repeats the question. “I asked, how are you guys doing tonight!” he adds emphasis to the last word, shouting into the mic. 

Then he hears her, right as the crowd is starting to settle down. Just as clear as a bell, “I can’t scream any louder. I’m waiting for ‘Valentine’ to lose my shit.”

He laughs into the microphone, looking for her in the crowd again. He think he spots her, in a bright yellow shirt. “You’re going to be waiting a little bit then, ba-,” The nickname almost falls off his lips. He almost lets it slip through his lungs, but he catches it right on the edge of his tongue and swallows it back down. “But we’ll get there. I promise. Right now, we’re slowing it down. Is it okay to slow it down for second?” Calum jokes around a bit with the boys as Michael strums before launching into Amnesia.  

As they take their final bow, instruments still reverberating into the speakers, Calum looks out over the crowd for her one last time. He spots the yellow in the crowd again. But he can’t be sure it’s her. They exit the stage, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. High fiving each other, still breathing hard after the show. He can’t wait to have her beneath his finger tips. Calum showers first. He knows he ought to eat something. But he’s not worried about that. He just needs her. He wonders to the bus, gathering the last of his things. He walks back with his traveler bag in his hand. 

Ashton whistles. “Uh huh, who are you going to see?” He can smell the cologne on Calum.

“Nobody, man. Nobody,” Calum returns, nothing sliding his phone into his pocket. 

“Nobody seems like a hell of a somebody

“Shut up,” Calum huffs, a chuckle falling from his lips as well. 

“Still a lot of foot traffic. Might as well eat, give it another half an hour or so,” the bodyguard warns. Calum wants to say fuck it, but figures if he does, he’ll be spotted. “We’ll go the second it dies down.”

Calum nods and manages to get through most of his second dinner. It’s as the first drop hits his stomach that realizes how fucking hungry he actually is. True to his word, the second the venue is cleared, Calum follows behind the guard. He can hear as the stage is torn down, people’s voices echoing. Outside near the buses, they cut across the back, jaywalk over the shockingly clear road. 

As they approach the top of the parking deck, Calum spots her figure in the shadows of the lamp posts. He grins, picking up his gait. He might as well run as the pace he’s half jogging. She pushes up from the hood of her car, starting towards him. Calum wraps her up in his arms, rocking the both of them side to side. She was in yellow. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, smiling against her skin, inhaling the faint scent of her hair products. Calum melts into her touch, the way she squeezes him, the hum of her effort falling over her lips. 

This is a goddamn home away from home, here in her arms, Calum thinks to himself. They release each other. Calum stares down at her, lips turned up into a smile. His hands slide down her side, stopping at her hips. Her nails drag over the veins in his hands. “It’s been too long,” he whispers. 

“Well Mr. Rockstar. My address is still the same.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grins, nails digging a little into the flesh of his hands. “You can make it up to me,” she states, pulling her hips from his grasp. Her boots make a soft clacking sound as she struts to her car, backwards. Her fingers slide over his. Calum hooks his middle finger around hers, so the contact isn’t lost. She readjusts the grip, hooking her pinky through his as they walk side by side. “You realize I nearly called you babycakes in front of the audience tonight right?” he asks, watch the light and shadows cross over her face. 

“I know.” 

“That would’ve been embarrassing.”

“For you, not for me.”

The inside of her car is warm, he notes. Very warm. She shrugs out of her jacket. “What were you cold or something?” he tease, poking at her thighs beneath the gaps in the fishnets. The black and white houndstooth pattern skirt looks flimsy. It’s all for the aesthetic, he figures, and he likes it. He just likes her, if he’s completely honest with himself. But he never is. Not in love anyway. He can’t afford to be completely honest. 

“I didn’t want to greet you with a cold car. And my legs are freezing. I didn’t think it’d get this cool.”

He rubs his palm over her inner thigh, after putting his seatbelt on. She doesn’t shudder, doesn’t moan. She just smiles, her cheeks lifting as her bottom lip falls victim to her teeth. Calum leaves his hand there, buried in the heat of her inner thighs meeting. She descends the parking structure. “Long way home or sit through traffic?” she asks stopped at the exit. 

“Long way,” he shrugs. He has nowhere to be right now of course. She squeezes his fingers with her thighs. 

Calum brushes his thumb over the skin, also brushing up against her thinly covered sex. She mashes her lips together, making a left turn. He can’t feel anything. He won’t push it now. He’ll wait. “What made you decide to wear yellow, huh?”

“Wanted to stand out.”

“I was looking for you, you know?”

“Bet my big mouth was the fastest way to look for me.”

He chuckles, “It was.” His thumb hooks into the side of her panties. Her gasp is audible, she grips tighter at the steering wheel. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she hisses softly. Calum doesn’t listen. He’s done with it. They’ve been driving for a few minutes now. He should’ve picked the traffic. At least she could’ve stopped. Not that going that way was completely risk free. Even though it would’ve been the tail end of it, they still could’ve gotten spotted together. 

Dragging his middle finger up, he groans at the slickness coating his finger. “You really did miss me.”

Her laugh strikes him odd. It’s sad, quiet. This is unlike her. But she doesn’t speak. Calum teases his finger at her entrance. Slowly, he lets the digit slip inside. She shifts, the softest sound leaving her parted lips. “Talk to me babycakes,” Calum urges, pushing his finger as deep as he can. He’s breathless at the feeling of her sitting on his digit.  She sits around his finger so well, pulling him deeper almost. He wishes it was his cock, but he’ll have to wait.

“I’d rather misbehave,” comes her response before she adds on, “Besides, you know it’s killing you. Have a taste.”

He already knows well enough what she taste like that slight saltiness. He can already taste it. He wonders if she remembers the way she tastes. Because if not he’s about to remind her. “Pull over,” he demands. 

“We’re on back roads. The shoulder is very narrow.”

“How much longer?” he asks, curling his finger. 

She hums, a chuckle falling over her throat. “Another ten, fifteen minutes if we don’t encounter any critters.”

Calum chuckles at the term. She might have left her home town, but her hometown has not left her. He decides not to risk it. “Can you handle this? Can you just still on my fingers?”

“Finger,” she corrects just like he knew she would. Calum pulls the one finger out before pushing a second one alongside it. Expelling all of the air in her lungs, she does her best not to make a sound. It’s not the first time he’s had his fingers deep in her while driving. Besides she has more important things to focus on like this fucking road. If she could spare the glance to Calum to throw daggers at him with her glare she would. 

But she keeps her eyes on the road, his fingers deep in her aching core. He must love this, she thinks. Loves her wrapped around his fingers, whether it’s her tongue or her heat, it doesn’t really matter. As long as she is somehow wrapped around his finger, he is in heaven. She tightens her pelvic muscles, squeezing around his digits. Calum groans, head falling into the headrest. His stomach jumps. 

“Do it again, please,” he breathes, rolling his head to look at her. She glances over. His face is a tad pink. He’s flushed already. She tightens around his fingers again. He is putty in her hands though his hands are the only that are milking her with his lazy curling inside. 

It’s the longest five more minutes to pull into the driveway of her house. It was left to her in her grandmother’s will. Also another reason why she moved. The house isn’t much, one story but with a lot of space. The engine cuts off and Calum is leaning over the console, fingers still buried in her. His mouth brushes over hers. He doesn’t have the words, the breathe to speak his next thought. But it’s like she knows as her mouth seals over his. She pushes all the right buttons as her teeth sink into his bottom on. Calum hisses, pushing his fingers particularly hard into her. Her legs fall even farther apart. 

Her nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders as they kiss. The points of pain are like small fires in his skin. Calum trails the tip of his tongue up her lips as he pulls away from the mess of lips, bites, teeth, and tongue. She pulls his fingers out of her, bringing his hand to her mouth. Through her lashes, she watches his face. Calum’s gaze is trained on the way his fingers glisten before the lights in the car go out. 

He laughs, a huff of a chuckle. It’s silenced as she sucks his digits into her mouth. Calum’s mouth falls open, a moan falling from his throat. She runs her tongue between his fingers, cleaning every inch of them. He wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t want her to stop sucking on his fingers. Calum leans in, pulling his fingers from inside her mouth, but leaves them resting against her pouty lips. 

“I wasn’t done,” she sighs. 

He doesn’t respond, instead he kisses her, the tips of his own fingers brushing against his lips too. It’s nice for a moment and then she brings one digit back into her mouth, leaving Calum’s lips hovering over hers yet again. This is ridiculous. He wants to kiss her, just wants to feel her supple lips against his again. Who gives fuck if his own finger is in the way? Calum kisses her, over his own knuckle as her tongue massages the pad of his finger. 

Calum’s not even sure when they made it inside her house. His senses too full of her, her scent, the way her skin feels, her moans, her groans, her sighs, the way his name sounds from her lips. He drops his bag in front of the her couch. “Thirsty?” she asks, toying out of her shoes. 

Calum unzips his boots, watching her hips as she walks to her kitchen. His socks are a little slippery against the tile she has down, but he manages to catch up to her, taking her hips into his hand and pulling her back into his chest. She grinds down into his crotch, feeling the bulge. Sliding them down to the hem of her skirt, he pushes it up until the band of her panties are exposed. “The only thing I need is you,” he whispers, yanking at the flimsy material. She shudders, but steps out of them. 

Calum steps away, hooking his pinky through hers. “Fix yourself. And c’mon.”

It takes  a few seconds for her to get the skirt back down her legs, but she follows behind Calum as he wanders down the main hallway.  As they enter her bedroom, she slides in behind Calum, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her fingers trail up underneath the sweatshirt. It should tickle, but Calum tenses for different. Her fingers trace the line of his pants and underwear until she pops the button. Her movements are slow but precise. 

She pulls the material up. Calum helps her pull it up and over his head. She tugs at the t-shirt too. “I’ll be underdressed,” Calum laughs. 

“Take it off, please?” She presses kisses through the cotton of the shirt. Calum pulls it up, tossing it to the heap with his sweatshirt. 

Her nails run down his back ad Calum shudders. The pain will be coming next and the anticipation is killing him. He needs it. He needs it like he needs her to suck on his fingers again; he needs it like he needs to kiss her. He needs the pain just like he needs her, to be beneath above, beside her. It does not matter. Her touch is light, the pads of her fingers just barely touching. Then her nails are digging into his lower back. He grunts, fingers curling into fists. She doesn’t let up either. 

With a growl, he spins around and pushes her into the wall. She collide with the wall with a particular loud thud. Calum cups the back of her head. “You okay?”

She nods. “But you’re not going to be,” she grin, hand running up his stomach and chest. 

“What does that mean?”

Her fingers dance across his lips and Calum opens his mouth. Her eyes twinkle. He knows what order is next. Two of her fingers slip over his tongue. “Suck,” she whispers, staring into his warm brown eyes. They’re hidden a little behind a cloud of tiredness, but a thick layer of lust. His moan shakes against her fingers, but he hollows his cheek, pulling his head back a little. The tip of his tongue tickles against webbing of her hands, but he loves it. He loves the weight of her fingers on his tongue. He the slight string as she runs the tops of her nails over the rough of his mouth. 

Calum grabs onto her wrist, holding her still, so he can run his tongue over each one of her digits. With her free hand, she reaches into his pants, grasping his length. Calum’s jaw falls slack at the grasps. He forgets all about her fingers in his mouth, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head. She runs her hands down to his pants and pushes them down. Kneeling she tugs the pants down and helps him step out of them. “I am severely underdressed,” Calum pants. 

He reaches a hand down and tangles his fingers into her hair, pulling her gaze up to his. “Strip, leave the fishnets.”

Still on her knees, she buttons the blouse, letting the material fall down her arms. She sit on her but, pushing her hips up with her core and heels. The material slides down over her calves. She sits propped up against the wall, legs spread open for Calum. Her core is soaked, leaking, creating a shine to her skin. Calum groans, dropping to his knees between her legs. He goes to lean in when she stops him with a foot to his chest. Calum runs his fingers up her skin. She plays at the necklaces hanging from his chest with her toe. 

“Please don’t toy with me,” he begs, squeezing her thigh. “Please, babycakes.”

She drops her foot. Calum scoots back, pulling her into his lap. Her lips find his immediately. One and tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, Calum drifts his fingers to her clit. She shudders at the first contact, moving to his earlobe and biting down. “Fuck,” he whispers at the slight twinge of pain. 

“I wanna ride you,” she whispers, kissing down his neck. 

“Of course, babycakes. Just come around my fingers once. You know how much I love it.”

With a nod, she pushes off his lap. “I can do that, anytime, angel.” Pushing to his knees, Calum grabs her thighs and nudges her against the wall. Using his fingers he pulls back her labia and licks a stripe up her, sucking on her cit. “Goddamn,” she sighs. Calum inserts two fingers into her, pumping and curling at the inside of her. He needs her to unravel around his fingers. He needs to feel that squeeze one last time. He hasn’t felt that in so long. She moans from above him when he starts to kitten lick the bundle of nerves. 

Nails scratching at his scalp, Calum moans against her mound as she tightens her grip. Her legs tremble. He presses her harder into the wall, curls faster, hits deeper inside her. “Fuck. Calum.” Her voice is strained. The muscle in her legs starts jumping, legs bouncing. Calum grins. This is it. This is it. She comes around him, a grunt falling over her lips. “Cal--” she chokes on her own breathe. 

She contracts and releases around his finger. Calum groans, slowly his lapping. But leaves his fingers buried deep in her heat. When he pulls his fingers out, she sags, sliding down the wall. Fuck, she can’t breathe. God. She feels like she’s floating. It shouldn’t take thing long to come back down. Calum strokes her cheek with his clean hand, kissing across her face. If it doesn’t work, he’ll find a way to do a cold compress. “Come back to me, babycakes. Deep breathe.”

Her eyes slowly blink back open. Calum grins. “There you are.”

She laughs. “Unfortunately.”

“I need some help.”

Inhaling deeply, she lets her close drift close before opening them and exhaling. “What’s up, angel?” 

Calum taps his fingers coated in her arousal against her lips. “Can you help me clean these?” 

She opens her mouth, resting her tongue flat against his fingers. Calum bends down, licking off the otherside. Together they clean his fingers, tongue brushing every so often. Calum pulls his hand away. She captures his lip between her teeth again, pullling hard. He groans. “Can I ride you now?”

“I would say you you don’t have to ask twice, but you just did.”

He’s always like this. Always still sassy. “Just get the fuck on the bed.”

Calum stands first, helping her up. “You sure you can handle it.”

Playfully slapping his ass, she laughs. “I’m sure I can.” He acts like he hates this, sending a glare to her over his shoulder. But Calum loves this, loves that they can still be playful in sex. Opening her bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom. Her birth control is right on top of the nightstand. She’s still taking it. When he turns around, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. She’s just watching him. Her gaze makes his gut flip again. What is she looking at? 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he chuckles, tearing opening the package. 

“You said no to pictures. Lay back,” she comments, patting the mattress. Calum rolls the latex on and reclines into her plush pillows. 

“Tell me,” he starts, watching her crawling up the length of body, pausing to kissing his thighs. “What were thinking about in the ride over here? When I asked--” the question stops on his tongue as her lips near his crotch. “When I asked if you missed me?”

“I’ll explain later, okay?” she whispers, lips ghosting over his cock. Calum goes to speak again until her nails dig into his hips. He moans. She continues to kiss up his body. She kisses and sucks a hickey onto his each collarbone. 

“Please, God, please,” he whines. That’s all she needs before sinking down onto his length. “Fuck,” Calum swears, grabbing onto her hips. She grinds her hips against his, holding herself up by pressing her hands onto his chest. 

“Tell me, angel, how’s the view?” she grins. 

Calum reaches up for one of her breast, rolling the brown bud between his fingers. “It’s like heaven,” he pants. Calum wants more, but he knows to wait this out. His body feels like it’s on fire, but it’s a fire that continues to get stronger. Moving his fingers from her breast to her clit, he tries to help build her to faster to her second orgasm. The moment he touches her nerve, she snatches the hand away. 

All movement is paused. “You want to fuck me huh? Is that what you want to do?”

“I want you to feel good. I--I want to make love to you.”

The phrase leaves her speechless. This hasn’t been about love. Or at least not on the surface, not with a label. It’s been a physical connection for sure. But the mental one has also been under the surface. Always felt, never talked about. Calum sees the shock on her face and takes this moment to get the upper hand. He hugs her close, before rolling them over. Her beneath him, still buried in her velvet heat. 

“Can I?” he asks. 

She nods. “Yes-yes.”

Calum kisses her, open mouthed before pulling out and slowly thrusting back inside her. She releases a small sigh in his ear as he thrusts inside. That’s a new sound. He thrusts slowly back into her. She releases it again. “Shit, you make the most beautiful sounds,” he whispers. He can’t get deep like this. So he pauses and places a pillow under her hips, brushing her knees to her chest. 

She grips the sheets as Calum re enters her. “God, fuck.” She can feel him everywhere. Not just inside her, his body is pressed firmly against her. She can feel his chest against his, his breath ghosting over her skin as his face is buried her into neck. His hips roll at just the right angle that he brushes over her cit. 

With very little warning, she cums beneath him, muscles tensing. Calum lifts his head to watch her face. The way her eyes screw up shut, the o she makes with her lips, the way her back arches off the bed. He loves this. He loves watching this. If he could record it, he would. To watch it over and over and over. Calum’s own orgams washes over him. He gives a final two thrusts before spilling over into the condom. 

They stay meshed together, the metal brushing over her brown skin. He loves the way it looks. God, how he could stay here forever. But he can’t. “Can I kiss you?” she asks, not sheepish, but concerned, but hesitant, unsure. 

“Of course.”

This kiss isn’t a clash of teeth, tongue or biting. It’s slow, and sensual. Almost loving. They part, Calum slowly pulling out of her. She pulls him alongside her into the bathroom. They clean themselves up, use the restroom. She leans up against the counter as Calum washes his hands. “I didn’t answer you when you asked if I miss you because I don’t just miss sex with you. I miss having you around.”

Calum pauses, hands still resting under the warm water. “I miss you too,” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. “Not the same way.” She shouldn’t have been vulnerable with him. He can’t do it. It’s not his fault, fully. It’s the road, it’s the constant travel. It’s the always being away. It’s the past too. It’s the people before, it’s the cruelty of being of being so invasive, it’s this life as a person of color. It’s not all his fault, but some of it was, like the shutting people out, bottling up. 

Calum quickly dries his hands, before following into the bedroom. She starts picking up her clothes and his. Calum stands bare at the threshold. “I know how you like your tea. 2 parts honey, one part sugar. You prefer black fruity teas. You despise coffee. But drink it because it’s the only thing that keeps you up for deadlines. You edit in coffee shops, but like writing in your backyard best. You prefer early morning to late nights. You like tequila over vodka which I’ll never understand. You hate twisting your hair, but like the way the curls look in the morning. You do pineapples when you’re lazy. You still can’t perfect the slicked down ponytail, but you still try. You’ve thought about doing a blow out but are too scared it’ll ruin your curl pattern again. You prefer shea butter moisturizers. You shop black owned every chance you get. You hate the fashion world, but still like designer shoes. 

“You’ll shop a sale every chance you get. You donate half your closet twice a year to the domestic abuse shelter in honor of the women in your family. You volunteer at hospitals during Christmas because you like walking in as Storm and having the other black kids staring up at you in awe. You wished you cosplayed more. You play the piano well for someone that’s never learned a scale. Your voice is so fucking soulful and if I could get you to sing on one our songs, I think I’d die in the studio before you ever opened your mouth. I miss you too. I am listening. You’re one of the first people I want to tell good news too. You’re the first person I think of when I see a cute dog. I miss not being to talk in my backyard.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you say anything.”

“I didn’t know how. I hate being so far away from you. I like this--being normal. I wish I didn’t have to miss you. But I’d rather miss you than not have you at all.”

[giogio1998]

30 thoughts and cannons on the JLI:

(Disclaimer: these are my personal opinions, you don’t have to agree but you also don’t have to be a bitch about it <3. Most of this thoughts are also based on the art I make of them)

1- the perfect JLI for me is: Batman, Martian manhunter, blue beetle (Ted Kord), booster gold, guy Gardner, fire and ice. More ppl is just too much ppl in just one group.

2- fire is a shortie, actually she’s the shortest member of the team (fun fact: the average Brazilian girl is short and curvy so that’s why I picture her that way) (yeah I know she’s a model and a show girl and a space cowboy yada yada yada ...).

3- Bea is definitely bi, but to me she’s definitely in love with Ted, they are just a match made in heaven. (Sorry I don’t see her and tora that way, to me their bond is like sisters so they dating in this concept would be weird) (totally respect if you shipp them though you do you).

4- everyone secretly likes Guy, they just don’t show it so it doesn’t go to he’s head.

5- Bea and guy have different insults to each other mainly based on their hair color (Bea’s favorite is “Ron Weasley” and Guy’s favorite is “Kermit the frog”) they insult each other on a daily basis.

6- everybody is on theirs 20s I think that because to me Batman is on his 30s and Martian on his 50s and there is no way they are older or the same age as them (you can tell by their maturity).

7- Bea knows Batman real identity (she knows it because she would never let some stranger dressed up like a bat train her, so instead of fighting it he just told her. She never told anybody about it).

8- skeets has a strange attraction for fire, nobody understands why but sometimes he follows her around, Ted couldn’t fix it.

9- Ted helped to develop the girls uniforms, they came up with the design and he came up with the material and technology to improve their performances in combat. For that Booster started to call him “Edna Mode”.

10- Tora cuts Guy’s hair, it’s not hard she uses a bowl and everything.

11- the JLI embassy is an old building in New York City, it has enough room for everyone, a lab for Ted in the basement and they can even land blue beetle’s bug on the roof.

12- fire got her powers on a explosion that had copper sulfate in the middle of it, that makes the fire turns green (that explains why she has the power of green fire). Before that she had dark blonde hair and brown eyes.

13- my art is today based, I couldn’t deal with Bea’s hair and outfits from the 80s.

14- Tora and Bea improve their English by watching friends and listen to music, they love Ariana Grande and Beyoncé.

15- booster gold goes to the hair salon more often than any other member of the team.

16- on Batman’s birthday the JLI made a “Batman themed party” where everyone wore cheap Batman costumes and all, he didn’t show up but everyone got wasted anyways.

17- once Bea nearly set the JLI embassy on fire by sneezing really hard, she had a really bad cold so Ted took care of her with chicken soup, cold medicine and kept a fire extinguisher next to him at all times.

18- Ted Kord when he’s not fighting as the blue beetle drives a black Volkswagen Beetle.

19- Ted has a Star Wars pijamas.

20- booster gold still plays subway surfers, he won’t quit until he beats Tora’s high score wich is 19 million.

21- on winter months everybody sleeps on fire’s room except for Tora who is doing just fine. And on summer months everybody sleeps on Tora’s room except for Bea (this makes the ac bill really cheap).

22- Tora hates the movie frozen, to her Elsa is just bad version of her. Guy Gardner has a crush on Elsa.

23- Bea has no idea what’s happening when everybody watches football, she just watches the super bowl for the halftime show.

24- Tora hates to wear her hair long.

25- Booster once gave Bea a purple dress and she returned it, when Booster confronted her about it she said “green hair and purple clothes? Who do you think I am the joker ?”. Batman was on her side.

26- Booster and Bea love Miley Cyrus, once they got into a argument over who would be Hannah Montana for WW’s halloween party, she burned Booster’s wig. Batman than made none of them go as Hannah Montana.

27- since Booster is from the future he doesn’t have a fragile masculinity, in fact he’s ok on doing skin care with the girls, won’t mind being their make up model and watching “girly stuff” on the TV. He also thinks men from the 2000s need to grow up (women love it about him).

28- they know their hogwarts houses, Tora and Ted are Hufflepuffs, guy and booster are Gryffindors, Bea and Batman are Slytherins and Martian is a ravenclaw (Ted forced everyone to take the pottermore quiz).

29- Martian loves to cook, in fact he’s really good at it, his favorite thing to bake is chocolate cake and he barely leaves anything for everyone to try.

30- the JLI secretly watch marvel movies (shhh don’t tell Batman he gets defensive)

That’s all for now let me know what your toughts are, if you like it I can make more. Do you have more cannons like this one ? Tell me I would love to read it ❤️

(Sorry for any grammar mistakes this bitch is Brazilian and although her English is good she’s not certified at the English school so be patient lol)

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter Six: The Separation of Crows

WORD COUNT - 4K

AUTHOR NOTE: So Alma’s is going to be going through it. So please be patient while she works out all the trauma she has endured. 

FIVE YEARS LATER

For the first time in years, Alma is going to fully acknowledge her ex-husband. Since their divorce things had been rocky between them. They never had fully recovered from the events that took place that led to their divorce. 

They are civil when it comes to anything regarding Nathan. 99.9 % of their conversations revolve around their son. Outside of the first year of the divorce and working out the distance, they had been able to work out a schedule that didn’t hurt Nathan’s relationship with his father. Jax got their son for the summer and every holiday and Nathan stayed with her for the school year. 

Alma can say she is proud that she and Jax have managed to co-parent as well as they have. She had thought it would be harder. She expected so much resistance. Yet, Jax has been over generous through the years and she knows he is overcompensating for the guilt he still feels. 

She feels bad that she and Jax have turned into strangers. 

She knows exactly when it happened. 

Wendy had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. After getting the paternity test, it turned out Jax was not the father. She had been happy for Jax if that made any sense. She knows that he thought it could be the start in mending things. Instead it just brought up old wounds as it didn’t change that he had slept with another woman, one of many, who could've been pregnant with his child. That had thrown Alma down a spiral she had managed to avoid and after that short and clipped phone call. She had a night out in the town where she met Vitaly Petrova. The man that would become her husband. 

She knows the only reason Jax came to the wedding was because of Nathan. He would have his boy for a month while she and Vitaly went on their honeymoon. Since her wedding night, any type of thread they had on a relationship evaporated. Jax created a bigger distance she couldn’t even begin to build a bridge too. She knows she is at fault considering what exactly conspired between the two on her wedding night. 

She knows he is going to have questions. It’s been 2 years since she has been back to Charming. She only made a trip to Opie’s homecoming party. When Nathan comes to stay with his dad, she and Jax always meet halfway. 

She knows Nathan is going to be mad, but she is doing what is best for him. That is her job as her mother. What hurts is having to follow the familiar route to hers and Jax’s first home. Nathan had mentioned in passing that Jax found the second house too big - too empty. The house is for Nathan when he is older and wants to come back to Charming. 

Nothing really has changed except for the vines that are overtaking the exterior. She finds Jax outside restoring a bike. He looks shocked to see her as Nathan isn’t due to visit until June for the summer. It’s May. 

Alma makes note in the changes of her ex-husband though. He had chopped off all his hair. He has a close cropped shave and it seems he has added at least 15 pounds in muscles since the last time she saw him. 

He doesn’t show any reaction to her showing up unannounced. He never shows any reaction towards her anymore. His eyes scan her car before her appearance. She isn’t all dolled up as she usually is. Her now blonde hair is in a sloppy bun and she is wearing a simple red summer dress. 

“Hey, Jax,” she greets. 

He doesn’t say anything as he begins wiping his hands off with a rag. 

“Everything okay with Nathan?” He asks. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

Jax raises his eyebrow. “If it were, you wouldn't be here in Charming unannounced.”

“I wanted to talk about changing Nathan’s visiting schedule.”

Jax nods his head. “You and the Russian going on vacation?” That was another thing. Jax never referred to Vitaly by his name. Just the Russian. She knows Jax hates her husband for many reasons and now she is potentially creating another one. 

“Actually, I was thinking Nathan should start high school in Charming. I want him to come back living here.”

“What?” Her ex-husband replies visibly confused. 

“I think with high school, it may be best for him to be with you. I know the visitation...it’s hard for you.”

Jax sighs. “He wanted to be with you, Al. It’s hard, but it’s not like I don’t see him. We talk almost every day.”

“I just want to do this for you.”

Jax stares at her directly in her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Alma hides the panic. She has gotten good at lying in the past three years. She knows she is risking a lot by not hiding her eyes with sunglasses, but it would put Jax on even more of an alert. 

“Everything is okay, Jax.” She assures him. 

Jax doesn’t press. He folds his arms across his chest. “I mean it’s not like I am going to have a problem with my son wanting to live with me.”

Alma smiles and some tension leaves her body. “I already completed the paperwork and I enrolled him at Aquinas Academy.”

“That Catholic school in Stockton? That place is expensive as shit.” Jax exclaims. 

“We always planned to send the kids there Jax. Did you forget I went there? We get a discount.”

A fond smile comes across his face. “Trust me, darlin’, I did not forget you in that skirt they passed as a uniform.” 

Alma rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the smile that comes across her face. It’s nice to be talking to Jax like this without any tension. Although it makes the heartache worse because she misses him. She never stopped despite all the heartache he put her through. She knows that makes her stupid. 

“I already ordered him a couple uniforms too.”

“Jesus, Al, let me pay for something. I know the Russian has money, but Christ, Nathan is my son.” Jax says with more bite than intended. 

“I didn’t use any of his money, Jax. I never do with things for Nathan and I’m sure you know that considering you make it a point to send child support checks I never ask for.” Alma constantly rolls her eyes at the money Jax sends her on a monthly basis. Of course it all goes directly to Nathan, but she knows the excessive amount Jax puts in is for her as well. With the money, she has been teaching Nathan about budgeting and she makes sure he isn’t always buying outlandish things. “Besides, I have my own money.”

Jax lips tug up. “How is your shop? Mom liked the nails you sent in for her to try.”

A bright smile comes over her face any time anyone asks about her nail salon. Two years ago she started Picassos. She started a small online shop for press or glue on nails and after getting the necessary paperwork and certifications, she was able to open her own salon and it has done exceptionally well. In fact, her online store constantly keeps her busy. 

“It’s going so well. I’m thinking of expanding.”

“Yeah. Have any spaces picked out?”

A blush taints her cheeks for some reason. “I’m actually thinking of opening a spot here. I am supposed to meet with Hale about potential spaces especially since Nathan will be here now.”

Jax presses his lips together. She can tell he is thinking hard. He is trying to understand what is going on around him. He closes the distance between them. His hand comes up and grips her chin forcing her to look at him. She hates how a simple touch from him causes goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. 

“I know I was shit husband -”

“You weren’t,” she interrupts foolishly. Sure, at the end he was, but in the beginning, she can’t find herself tainting the image of the man she had hopelessly been in love with.  

A strained smile reaches Jax’s lip. “...still despite what happened between us. You can still come to me if you need my help.”

“Jax, I’m fine. Everything is okay.” She places her hand over his and squeezes it before removing his hand from her face. “I’ll see you next month.”

She doesn’t let Jax get another word back in as she rushes back to her car. 

.

.

.

Alma had to plan it meticulously. Vitaly is always busiest it seems between May and until the end of June. It’s then he makes his visits to other states or countries for things. Then in July, he would spoil her with a trip someplace. She knows this summer will not be an easy one. Most importantly, she feels bad for having to deceive her son. 

She looks at her oldest, as he gets older, she thought he would take after his father more. She had been surprised how much he resembles her physically. From the brown hair and she even finds some of her mannerisms in him. However, his eyes are his father’s eyes. Those blue orbs are a carbon copy of his father’s and he also seems to have inherited his father’s brain when it comes to things that aren’t particularly suited for the interests of 14 year olds. She has gotten too many phone calls about her son setting up candy stores trying to make a buck at school. 

Despite his lukewarm relationship with Vitaly, she knows Nathan does enjoy spending time learning the business side of the wine industry. Nathan has expressed an interest in going to school for business. She had been pleasantly surprised that her son showed an interest in college. She had been convinced her son would move back to Charming at 18 and join the club. Although she might be changing the course of his life by moving him to Charming. 

“What do you mean I’m moving with Dad?” Nathan asks as he packed what he believed to be his summer bag to his father’s. He only brings simple things like a book, movies, and games. Maybe a sweatshirt he is particularly fond of.  Usually the first day he is back in Charming, his dad takes him shopping for new clothes and things he needs if he outgrown some things. It also helped that he didn’t need to lug around a suitcase and deal with unpacking. 

“I enrolled you at Aquinas Academy for high school. So now for holidays you’ll come here. I thought it might be best for you to spend your teenage years with your dad.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?” Nathan asks. 

“If you really hate Charming that much, you can come back here of course. I think it would be best. I mean I got you for all these years. I think you and your dad would love this.”

“Does Vitaly know?”

“It doesn’t matter. When it comes to you, the final decision is between me and your father.” His mother deflects. 

Nathan straightens his back. He doesn’t like that answer. The thing was being young Nathan didn’t see the warning signs, or maybe Vitaly was good at hiding them. He can also say he had come to a point where he hated his father for the pain he inflicted on his mother. Vitaly didn’t seem to be wrong for his mother. He was spoiling his mother with gifts and seemed like he wanted to form a friendship with him. Now, he thinks Vitaly just knew how to prey on his mother. She was emotionally vulnerable and he dove like a crow. 

He thinks it was almost a year into his mother's marriage something felt off between his mom and Vitaly. 

The problem is he never sees anything. Sure, there are some raised voices and he does check his mom over for marks, but there is no evidence. 

There are times when he wants to mention something to his dad. He just is scared of his dad’s reaction and what could happen to his mom. His dad doesn’t like Vitaly as is and he knows his dad might do something reckless. Knows the club could get into trouble if his dad did do something. 

Although his main concern is his mother, he has researched a little on domestic violence and he needs to be sure she is safe. 

“Mom, I can’t leave you alone.” Nathan settles on. 

“I won’t be. I have the salon keeping me busy.” She answers. 

Nathan wants to scream and shout, but he doesn’t. He is a teeanger and he needs to be smart about this. Just maybe his mom does have a plan if she is sending him back to Charming. It doesn’t ease his worries though. 

“You’re gonna come to visit at least on the first day of school?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

.

.

.

Alma didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s always hard when her baby leaves for the summer. She misses him terribly and Nathan’s absence is always felt. Now though she can’t stop crying as she holds him to send him off with his father. 

“Christ, Mom,” Nathan says as she smothers him in kisses as she has to stand on her tippy toes a bit.

She can hear Jax chuckle in the background. 

She pulls back, “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

“I can see that.” 

“Oh stop,” Alma says. 

“I’m just going to be with Dad. It’s not like I’m moving to another country.”

Alma gives her son another hug. “I’ll miss you, baby.”

Nathan’s arms wrap around her tightly and they hold each other. Her baby is growing up. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.”

Alma pulls back and watches as Nathan makes his way to Jax’s truck. Jax is leaning against his grill with a somber expression. He walks over to her, “You sure about this?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in town for a couple weeks in August to see him start school.” She tells him. She wraps her arms around herself. “Just take care of him, Jax. He’s the only thing I have left.”

Jax nods his head. His eyes scan her over, “I’ll see you in August.”

.

.

The ride to Charming was quiet. Jax expected it to be considering how Alma clearly was distraught with Nathan moving in with him. Jax reminds himself that Alma wanted this and he was happy to have his son full time. Yet, since she popped up unexpectedly last month, he felt something was off. He was missing something from this. Sure, he had his suspicions. He made the mistakes once of making an offhand comment to Clay about it. The guys would usually ignore his comments about the Russian and write it off as jealousy. Yet, Clay had looked at him and made the pointed reminder that Alma wasn’t his wife or old lady. Her marriage wasn’t his business. Also if he did something the blow back wouldn’t not only hurt Alma and Nathan, but the club would suffer. 

Sometimes, Jax wanted to ask Nathan if he had worries or issues with Vitaly. He just didn’t want to put his son in that position. If there was a truth to any suspicions of wrongdoing, Jax would murder Vitaly without any hesitation. 

He just doesn’t know how to handle the fact he pushed Alma into this situation. He fucked up and she landed into this assholes lap. 

“We’re going to Grandma’s?” Nathan asks when they don’t take the turn to the house. 

“Her grandbaby is moving back to Charming. She made a whole spread for you.” Jax informs him. 

Gemma had been ecstatic when he told her Alma was sending Nathan to move in with him permanently. Since Alma married the Russian, their relationship had turned frosty. He knows his mom thought a reconciliation would happen and he thinks it's safe to say they were both blindsided when she announced she was getting married. 

His mother didn’t like the Russian either, but for other reasons. Jax thinks he is the only one that believes Alma’s marriage isn’t what it seems. He thinks it may be time to talk to Opie because he might get clarity from him, but even then it doesn’t change the fact Alma isn’t his old lady or wife. 

“You think she’ll be nicer to mom now?” 

Jax raises an eyebrow. “Who knows with your grandmother. How’s Ann doing?”

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “Somewhere with her boyfriend. I don’t know. She and mom don’t talk much anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everytime they would talk, Ann would say something bad about you and praise Vitaly. It would lead to arguments. So mom stopped checking in unless she felt I needed to talk to her, which I don't.” 

Jax snorts. “Unbelievable. How is the Russian?” He asks with clear distaste.

Nathan shrugs his shoulders. “On a business trip, I guess.” Nathan taps his fingers against his knees. “I just wish my mom wasn’t going to be alone in the house.”

“You worried for her.”

“It’s just been me and her, ya know. After Ben and Kaylee...I always worry.” Nathan reveals. 

Jax fights the ball in his throat at the mention of his two youngest. His chest still tightens thinking about them and what their futures could’ve been.

“She and the Russian don’t want kids?” He asks. He tries not to think about Alma sharing a bed with that man, but he has been mentally preparing for the pregnancy announcement any day now. 

“Vitaly doesn’t like kids.”

“What!” Jax exclaims, shocked. 

“That’s what he told me.”

“What? When?” Jax inquires. 

“It was a little bit after when they got married. One of the workers at the winery had a baby. He told me I didn’t need to worry about getting another sibling. He wasn’t fond of kids, especially babies.”

“Your mom knows this?”

Nathan furrows his brow. “I would imagine. It’s not like I really want to talk about mom’s sex life, Dad. Gross.”

“How do you think you got here?”

Nathan’s nose scrunches up. “Disgusting.”

“Speaking of sex, don’t think you are living with me you can be sneaking girls over. Your mom will kill me if you get a girl pregnant.” Jax warns. “You do know how to use a condom?”

“Ugh, yes, Dad. Mom showed me.”

“When?”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well you are getting a refresher and I’ll take you shopping, or did your mom already take you?”

Nathan’s cheeks are red at this point. “No, Mom said she’ll save the shopping for you.”

“Look at that, your mom thinks of everything.” Jax says as he pulls into Gemma’s driveway. He turns the truck off. “I’ll give you a few minutes to call your mom and tell her that you're here, alright.”

Nathan nods his head and Jax slips out of the truck. He walks into his mother’s house. He almost jumps as the door is swung open. His mother is on the opposite side of him. She looks behind him. “Where is my grandson?”

“Calling Alma real quick to tell her we made it.” He answers as he walks into the house. 

“Well?” Gemma presses. 

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you excited? You’ve been mopey since Alma gave you the good news. It’s about time she came to her senses about the boy needing to be with his father.” Gemma adds. 

“Ma,” Jax warns. 

Gemma presses her lips together. “You should be happy.”

“I am.”

“She’s not your concern anymore, Jax.”

“She is still family, Ma.” Jax answers. “She’s the mother of my children. She is always going to be a concern.”

...

Alma has been nervous for this day. She is in the sitting living room by the tall windows as she looks out into their backyard. Vitaly is returning from his business trip. She can hear his footsteps approaching. She watches as he waves off his security to give them privacy. 

Vitaly is a handsome man. Tall and lean, his dirty blonde hair is slicked back and parted on the side, and it seems in the month he has grown out a mustache. When they first met, she wasn’t really impressed with him. Or at the time, he shared some similarities with her ex husband with the long hair and baggy shirts and jeans. But Vitaly’s sense of style has matured to silk buttons up and slacks. Expensive shoes and diamond jewelry. Despite having a legitimate winery with vast distribution, he has ties to the Russian Mafia. His uncle is Viktor Putlova, the head of the Mafia. 

Alma had been hesitant to be involved with someone in the Life again, but she was swept up by Vitaly. Also it helped that the Sons rarely do business dealings with the Russians. 

She took the risk. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets and gives her a kiss before sitting next to her. 

“How was the trip?”

“Too long. Just wanted to come home,” he tells her as he puts an arm around her shoulder. 

“Nathan already gone?”

Alma swallows the ball in her throat. “Yeah. Dropped him off last night.”

“When is he coming back?”

“He...uh...he is going to be actually staying in Charming. He is going to live with Jax.” She informs him. 

Vitaly freezes. “When was this decided?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And you are only telling me now?”

Alma doesn’t say anything. 

“Answer me.” Vitaly barks. 

“He is starting high school. I thought it was best he was with his dad. They both miss each other.” Alma rushes out. 

“You couldn’t tell me this over the phone. You went behind my back.” Vitaly points out. “When did you tell, Jax?”

“May.”

“Over the phone.” Vitaly inquires.

Alma shakes her head. 

Even though she is prepared for it, it still manages to take her by surprise when Vitaly grabs her by her throat. He squeezes hard as he chokes her. She begins to feel light headed and white spots are forming in her eyes. 

She coughs as he throws her to the floor. 

“Jesus, fuck, Alma!” Vitaly shouts. “Get to the fucking room.” She can hear him unbuckling his belt. 

She used to think she was in love with Vitaly. Maybe a part of her was, but all she knows that her heart was already broken once so it can’t be broken again.

.

.

.

.

TWO YEARS AGO - The Wedding

Alma never imagined getting married again. In fact, she thought she was done with marriage. She had no desire in making vows with another man. Yet, look at her now. She is only in her peach colored robe and the fancy lingerie set she bought for her soon to be husband. She had just finished her makeup when she began to feel overwhelmed. 

Her mom sensed that she needed some space. She didn’t remember feeling nervous when she married Jax, but then again she already had a kid. Marriage paled in comparison to that. 

She is just worried she is making a mistake. Her choices affect her son. She and Vitaly could be together without the attachment of marriage. She wonders if it is normal to feel scared. She knows she sure as hell doesn't feel happy at the moment. 

Thinking on it, Alma didn’t have much say in the wedding planning. Her mom had taken over everything for her. 

A knock comes at the door. 

“One minute.” She replies. 

It’s quiet, but the knock comes again. She sighs and storms to the door. “I said one -” Her voice dies as she finds Jax on the other side of the door. 

He rushes into the room. Alma closes the door. She knows the only reason he is here is because of Nathan. Immediately after the wedding festivities Jax is going to take Nathan while they are on their honeymoon. 

She doesn’t get to question him as to why he is here because he beats her to it. 

“Please do not do this,” he pleads. 

Alma rolls her eyes. She walks back over to her vanity. “You did this. You ended us.”

“Alma, please, I’m sorry...there has to be something -”

“You’ve done enough.” She informs him bluntly. 

It goes quiet in the dressing room. Alma busies herself by playing with random items on her vanity, but it doesn’t conceal that her hands are shaking. 

She hears Jax footsteps behind her before his chest is against her back. Alma freezes. She turns immediately to slap him for even crossing that physical boundary. 

Yet as soon as she turns, Jax hoists her up on the vanity and immediately spreads her legs to stand between them. His movements were rough and desperate as he immediately removed her robe leaving her in her peach colored lingerie. 

His fingers wrapped around her throat and he moved her closer as he applied the smallest of pressure and pressed his lips against hers. 

She was distracted by Jax kissing hers that she jumps slightly in surprise when she feels his fingers move her panties to the side and tease her opening. He didn’t thrust them inside of her, but kept circling them making her buck her hips up on the counter. 

“Jax,” she moans. 

She hears him unzipping his pants and her panties are pushed to the side again and he slams himself inside of her. 

Alma screams are muffled as Jax moves the hand around her neck to cover her mouth. Her walls constrict around him as her body gets adjusted to him. She hates to even admit that she missed this side of Jax. She missed him. 

Jax moves his hand back to her throat as he presses another rough kiss to her mouth. He pulls all the way out before snapping his hips back up into hers. Alma bites her lip to stifle her moans as each thrust is harder than before. 

She knows what Jax is doing. She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She shouldn’t be doing this at all. But she tightens around him. 

Jax releases a broken moan, “Christ, you feel so fucking perfect.”

Jax lifts her leg and he hits her G-Spot repeatedly. It triggers her orgasm unexpectedly. Her body quivers and a lewd moan leaves Jax mouth as he releases. She can feel him coating her walls. He trails kisses across her collarbone and throat before he meets her lips. 

She can feel the tears building in her eyes. She thinks she truly hates Jax and herself at this moment. Jax pulls back when he feels the first drop of liquid against his cheeks. 

Alma winces as he pulls out of her. She ignores his cum dripping out of her and staining her panties. She is lucky she brought another set of lingerie as she couldn’t decide. 

“I hate you.” She tells him. She doesn’t glance at him as he cleans up. She has barely tied her robe back together and Jax has just buckled his belt when the door slams open revealing her mother. 

Ann doesn’t say anything as she glares at Jax, who walks out without a glance back. 

Alma turns as she looks for the other set of lingerie. 

“Is it out of your system?” Ann asks. 

Alma nods her head.

[iheartsunset]

Papa Louie Prudence HCs

(Nobody asked for these, but I gotta show love to my 8 year long favorite character)

Edit 9/23/20: Sorry I didn’t realize Pickles was a girl, last time I’ll ever listen to the forum lmao anyways I’m about to fail a test tomorrow even though I’ve studied nonstop, but that’s probably just how science goes

-Prudence Carmichael-Wagner is 22 years old and lives in a fabulously rose colored loft in Tastyville. She doesn’t plan to leave her job at the Pancakeria any time soon, but she is studying hard to become a veterinarian. She is the half sister of the famous Rudy Diamond; the daughter of Arugula Bank’s owner, Anselm Wagner; and his ex-wife, Lola Carmichael, the headmaster of Eclair Academy. Prudence has a strained relationship with her emotionally manipulative parents who care more about her achievements than her wellbeing and tried to avoid them whenever she can. Prudence’s mother loves dropping by her loft unannounced, which makes Prudence upset and anxious.

-Prudence can mostly be described as a kindhearted socialite with a strange obsession with the color pink. She is very hospitable and doting on everyone around her, making her seem like more of a mother/older sister figure. She also carries assorted sweets and mints in her purse for both emergency consumption and to cheer up anyone who’s sad. Prudence does also have a habit of panicking at first under pressure, but has learned to adapt very quickly. Prudence also loves to volunteer and help those less fortunate than her. But call her a dumb blonde and we’ll see how many teeth you have left afterwards (as a result of either her purse or Rudy’s fist).

-Her and Rudy were born on the same day only a few hours apart. Many people joked that the two were twins due to their shared birthday, blonde hair, blue eyes, and close relationship. However, she didn’t know that her father and Rudy’s mother, Carla, (his chief financial officer) had an affair that led to Rudy being born. After this was found out by Lola, Carla’s reputation was ruined and she relocated with Rudy to Powder Point, much to Prudence’s dismay. After reuniting years later when the Cheeseria opened, the two found out about the affair and realized they were siblings. They share a close bond now, but still have terrible relationships with their parents.

-As previously stated in Cooper’s headcanons, she is in a polyamorous relationship with him and Taylor. She met Taylor at their shared night school and met Cooper at their shared workplace. While her feelings for either of them weren’t very strong, Taylor’s heartfelt confession made her fall for both of them hard, thus starting the third most wholesome relationships in Flipline’s history (Penny and Alberto have the top spot filled and second place is definitely Olga and Edoardo). She loves to buy them roses or chocolates and see how flustered they both get when they’re delivered. Prudence’s parents definitely don’t approve of this relationship, but she actually doesn’t care this time.

-She and Trishna’s parents were very close in business growing up, so they both quickly became best friends, along with Rudy. She is three years younger than them and is still stuck attending high school. While Trishna isn’t too close to Rudy anymore, she and Prudence still hang out and text all the time. If Trishna is somewhere, then Prudence is probably nearby or at least on the phone with her. Trishna also offers Prudence discounts at Fashion Flambé, but Prudence always declines saying that it feels weird to not pay the full price if she didn’t have any coupons.

-Prudence was given Pickles as a gift from her father. However, he said that she could only keep the dog if she would have good grades and continued with being a debutante, meaning most of her effort was for Pickles’ sake. When she earned a C on a test, Pickles was almost taken to the pound, but she quickly entered them in a dog show to make up for her “mistakes”. The dog show started out as sort of survival, but Prudence continued doing it since she and Pickles actually enjoyed it.

-She and Trishna both attended Croquembouche Preparatory Academy along with Alberto, Penny, Joy, Roy, and Mindy. Prudence was notably crowned prom queen her junior year, all around tennis and cheer star, student body president her senior year, and salutatorian. She also joined multiple clubs. Unbeknownst to her classmates, having to keep up with these high expectations from her family and teachers almost broke her from the stress. However, a pep talk from Vicky allowed Prudence to drop many clubs and sports and take it easier in school, much to her parents’ dismay.

-Allan has thought that Prudence would play a very good Sandy, but Prudence can’t really sing well. She would, however, make for a good Elle Woods (as in the movie version) or any kickass Barbie protagonist (which is all of them, I stan Barbie). Prudence can dance amazingly, but she just doesn’t fit Cha Cha’s sassiness and overall nastiness. She’s a great cheerleader, so she’s a good fit for Patty Simcox, but then again Patty also sucks, so looks like Prudence is just a background dancer.

-She thinks of Johnny as her father, Hank as he other father, and Vicky as her mother. She also considers Trishna, Scarlett, Utah, Clover, Nevada, and Mindy her sisters. Chuck, Marty, and Greg are her brother figures. Rudy is also thought of as her brother, but he’s also her actual brother, so it’s actually very accurate.

-If you smell pickles on the bus, it’s because Prudence opened her big ass jar of them and started eating it. I personally hate pickles, especially when people eat them on some sort of vehicle. Sure you can eat pickles ain’t nothing wrong with that, but I’m not tryna smell pickles when I’m trying to get to school.

-Prudence is a master at fashion and makeup. However, she mostly wears simple cropped shirts and jeans everywhere for comfort. Her only standout accessories are her purse (since she carried Pickles in it) and her bow (she had to find some way to be twinsies with pickles, and she wasn’t wearing no dang collar).

-She and Maggie are both queens and often converse about how to maximize their joint slay. They also love finding examples to disprove the dumb blonde stereotype.

-She likes to get the good dog food for Pickles, but she sometimes gives her some pickles or vanilla ice cream. Cooper and Taylor spoil her with other types of human food when she’s away, though. Not chocolate or any of that kinda stuff though.

-Prudence likes to sit in the stands and drunkenly cheer really loudly for Cooper and Taylor, which actually encourages them even more. Dang they’re just all so cute together like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

-She basically lives at the mall and salon, earning her closer relationships with their workers. She and Kaleb like to drink tangerine pop together and she always gossips with either Mindy or Vicky. Sometimes she takes Cooper and Taylor to get their nails done together. Taylor prefers his nails in ultramarine with white flowers while Cooper likes a classic French manicure better.

-Rudy can’t dress for shit and neither can Johnny, so she tries to help them both out together outfits better. They’re very close to her, but none of them take her advice and she is very sad. She hates flannel, but whatever makes him happy, she guesses.

-My favorite girl and has been for most of my life. I love her so much.

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 8

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

James I (203): James I/VI (First of England, Sixth of Scotland) is known for both translating the Bible and being just... so, so incredibly gay. The book mentions that he promoted a dumb jock to gentleman of the bedchamber, but it leaves out that 13-year-old James would just make out with dudes in public, and that the dumb jock (George Villers) was James’s third serious adult relationship. His friends introduced him to George because his last boyfriend was bad for the kingdom. 

George Eliot (205): Mary Anne Evans wrote under the pen name George Eliot to escape the stereotype that women could only write romances. She wrote seven novels, of which Middlemarch is the most famous, known for their realism and psychological insight.

Daniel Defoe (205): A pioneer of the English novel, Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe as well as a series of divisive political pamphlets and tracts.

Jonathan Swift (205): Irish political writer most famous for A Modest Proposal, a satirical piece that suggests cannibalism of infants as a more humane response to the British treatment of Ireland than letting them grow to starve in adulthood.

Dickens... “woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown” (205): Charles Dickens wrote stories concerned with the lower classes. This quote in particular refers to Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, who was left at the altar and refused to take off her wedding dress or even put away the food set out for the wedding.

Sense and Sensibility (205): This is probably Austen’s second most popular novel (after Pride and Prejudice); it follows the four Dashwood women in their move to a new home following the death of Mr. Dashwood. Like most of Austen’s novels, the opinionated narrator follows the women through a series of romantic mishaps, culminating in a happy ending.

Green American Money (206): Fun fact, British money is blue and orange and purple and all sorts of fun colors! It also all looks different, because (at least in Scotland) four banks are allowed to print pound notes, so there are four different designs all in circulation.

Sean Hannity (206): A conservative American political commentator.

Harvard rowing (206): Rowing is like... the bougiest of sports.

Pleiad (206): In Greek mythology, the pleiades were the daughters of the titan Atlas who became stars following his entrapment under the earth. They are remembered for their beauty and loyalty. Myths of the missing pleiad explain why only six of the seven stars are visible to the naked eye. According to some sources, the missing pleiad is Merope, who was shamed out of the sky for her relationship with a mortal.

Minute Maid Park (206): The baseball stadium associated with the Houston Astros baseball team; it seats just over 41,000.

Politico (207): An American political opinion news source.

Drop-kick Murphys (208): An American Celtic punk band. (listen here and here)

The Klan (209): The Ku Klux Klan, an incredibly racist organization that has been responsible for the lynching of thousands of people of color.

Kim Nam-June (210): Kim Nam-Joon, known as RM or Rap Monster, is the leader and rapper of the K-pop group BTS.

Milwaukee (211): The largest city in and main cultural center of Wisconsin, which is a “swing state”, meaning that it could go either way politically in a national election.

Seth Meyers (211): An American talk show host and comedian whose creatively titled show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, is liberal-leaning. He hosts celebrities and often chats about politics or the news.

Clear Crystal Quartz (211): Apparently the most “iconic” crystal, it is believed to be able to help with clarity and the achievement of goals.

Wimbledon (213): The oldest tennis tournament in the world, considered by many to be the most prestigious.

Royal Box (213): The royal box at Wimbledon is a section of the best seats, reserved for royalty and specially invited celebrity/politically powerful guests.

David Beckham (213): A former professional soccer player and current fashion icon known for being hot and wearing nice suits.

McQueen (214): Alexander McQueen was an openly gay British fashion designer who rose from a lower class background to become one of the most famous designers in the world. Though he died in 2010, his brand continues to be known for unconventional fashion shows and theatrical imagery. 

Dashikis (215): A colorful, ornate piece of clothing somewhere between a shirt and a tunic originally from West Africa.

Orangery (218): A very large greenhouse or conservatory designed for growing orange trees.

Woman at her Toilet (218): This painting shows a woman in her bedroom putting on her socks with a little dog next to her; you can see it here.

Baroque bed* (218): Baroque art was designed to show off a monarch’s power; it is incredibly extravagant (Versailles is pretty much the iconic Baroque thing; you can see more about it here).

The Killers (219): An American rock band formed in the early 2000s and known for having donated over $1 million to charity (they did “Mr. Brightside”). (listen here and here). According to McQuinston’s twitter, the song Henry plays is “When You Were Young”, which you can listen to here.

Dred Scott (219): In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford case, the US supreme court ruled that the constitution did not extend to or protect Black folks. 

Nina Simone (219): An American singer/songwriter/political activist whose music spanned a variety of genres and whose activism focused largely on the civil rights movement and was largely influenced by her “friend” Lorraine Hansberry, a Black lesbian playwright. (You know Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”? She’s Nina) (listen here and here)

Otis Redding (219): Considered one of the greatest singers in American pop music and was one of the foundational soul artists in the US. (listen here and here)

Brahms (219): A German composer known for sticking to more classical forms of music while his contemporaries often leaned toward more dramatic or opulent styles. (listen here and here)

Wagner** (219): A German composer who wrote both the music and the librettos for his operas; his works tend to be very complex, and he has been credited with beginning modern music. (listen here and here)

Romantic (219): Artistically, the Romantic movement was a direct response to industrialization that called for a return to and celebration of nature. Queerness was very much a part of this movement, as it was seen as a return to or celebration of one’s natural state (think Byron).

War of the Romantics (219): A music history term used to describe the split between conservative composers like Brahms who wanted to stick with the Baroque, opulent styles of the past century and radical progressive composers like Liszt, who favored newer styles that blended music with narrative and morals.

Liszt (219): A Hungarian composer known for a diverse body of work and his position as the leader of the radical progressive group in the War of the Romantics. (listen here and here)

Alexander Scriabin (219): Russian composer known for his atonal or dissonant music. (listen to the piece Henry mentions here)

Elton John’s “Your Song” (219): A song written before Elton John came out, but with his queerness in mind. In a 2013 interview, John referred to it as “a perfect song”, and that the lyrics (written by Bernie Taupin) got even better as he got older and sang it more. (listen here)

Consecrated (220): made holy.

DNC (221): The Democratic national conference, when members of the Democratic (liberal) party get together to prepare for a presidential race.

College Republicans of Vanderbilt University (221): Vanderbilt University is a private (and therefore more expensive) school in Nashville, Tennessee. Its location in the South and its price tag would both mark it as being more conservative.

Cage match (221): A type of wrestling match that takes place inside a steel cage; the most common way of winning is by escaping the cage, usually by climbing over the top.

Paul Ryan (222): A conservative retired politician and former Speaker of the House.

The Second Amendment (222): The second amendment grants Americans the right to bear arms (have guns).

Salon (222): An American news and opinion website with a politically liberal editorial stance.

Air Force One (222): the president’s plane

“My Canadian girlfriend” (223): A running joke that someone (often a high schooler) whose partner goes to another school or lives somewhere else is made up.

Five Guys (225): Five Guys Burger and Fries is a popular fast food burger chain across the US.

Vampire Weekend (225): An American indie rock band.

The general (226): the general election in November, when Americans would vote for their president

Plainclothes (226): out of uniform

The Beekman (226): A very fancy hotel in Lower Manhattan, near the Brooklyn Bridge.

NATO (233): the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; an intergovernmental military alliance between 29 North American and European countries.

----

*every time I read this, I flinch just a little bit. Baroque architecture is just... so much, and the concept of a Baroque bed when beds/bedrooms are supposed to be simple to help you rest... It’s just so much and I hate it with all of my being. I’m sorry if you like Baroque furniture, but especially for Henry, who dreams of a simple life where he can just write and be anonymous... It’s a big yikes.

** Literally no one asked, but his stuff is just... it’s so boring? Like I’m sure it’s great to fall asleep to or calm down to, but I tried to listen to it while I wrote this and I just couldn’t. Liszt is better, but he’s no Mozart. Also? Mozart wrote BOPS. ONLY. “The Birdcatcher’s Song” slaps and no one can change my mind on that.

----

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 9

[walkerismychoice]

Stripped Bare - Chapter 12 (Bryce X MC AU)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Charlie Hawkins)

Summary: It’s the day of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. How will Bryce react to Charlie being around strippers that aren’t him?

Rating: Mature/18+ (Again nothing explicit, but there is stripping in this one and lots of alcohol consumption)

Word Count: 3457

"My hair is going to be down, so I want everyone else’s hair up," Katelyn dictates to the stylists. "I'm thinking a lower chignon for all of them, but I don’t want them to be too matchy-matchy, so make them a little unique.”

The stylists get to work as Katelyn floats around from chair to chair micromanaging. Katelyn apparently doesn’t trust an unknown stylist for her own hair and is flying in her hair stylist from back home the day before the wedding. 

Kyra leans over towards Charlie when Katelyn moves to the other side of the salon to supervise the Sarahs. “Only Katelyn would make her bridesmaids get pre-approval on their hair like this. What a waste of time.”

“Seriously. But at least we have wine!” Charlie holds up her glass, and Kyra clinks hers against it.

Charlie’s stylist works with her natural curls, pulling it back and adding in floral hair piece. Much to Charlie’s surprise, Katelyn approves of it without any revisions, but the same cannot be said for the rest of the girls. After multiple reference pictures are taking, Charlie gets tired of waiting in the salon and goes and sits on a bench outside.

As she takes in the sights and sounds around her, she hears her phone buzz in her purse, pulling it out to see a series of texts in her group chat with Aurora, Sienna, and Jackie.

Sienna: Hello???? We haven't heard from you in days!

Jackie: What Sienna really wants to ask is, have you banged Bryce yet?

Sienna: Jackie!

Aurora: Come on Sienna. You're the one who bet she'd give it up by night two

Charlie: OMG you guys are the worst! No, I am not sleeping with Bryce

Jackie: At least it got you to talk to us finally. So you mean to tell me you've been spending 24/7 with the hottest guy we've ever met and you haven't hit that yet? What a waste. If that were me...

Charlie: Ugh, I'm putting my phone away now

Sienna: Wait!

Sienna: For real though, how are things going?

Charlie starts to type the truth, how she's fallen hard and thinks there's a chance he might feel the same, but then she erases it. If she puts it all out there to her friends, it means she's admitting it to herself as well, and she's still not ready for that.

Charlie: Katelyn is as awful as ever, but Bryce has been a model fake boyfriend. I'm not sure I'd be staying sane without him

Sienna: ❤

Jackie: Oh, you so want him! You better tell us when you finally hook up

Aurora: Yes, please do so these two can finally shut up about it

Charlie: Probably not happening

Sienna: But you're saying there's a chance!

Charlie: SMH. Talk to you guys later

~~~

The girls go straight to lunch from the salon. Charlie checks her phone during a lull in the conversation and sees a text from Bryce.

Bryce: How's it going? Are you missing me terribly yet?

Charlie rolls her eyes but she can't help but smile.

Charlie: Seems you are the one who can't go more than two hours without texting me. Who is missing who here?

Bryce: What can I say? I'm getting used to having you around. What are you doing?

Charlie: Eating lunch. You?

Bryce: I grabbed some lunch on the way back from the gym. Now I'm going to get in the shower.

Charlie: I see

Bryce: Picturing me naked now, aren't you? I can give you a little visual to go with that if you want

Charlie has no idea what he means by that and she’s both curious and afraid to find out. She tries to think up a witty reply to reject his offer, but it’s too late because a photo is already coming through. She glances around the table and shields her phone just in case, and when it fully loads she’s glad she did. The picture is of Bryce taking a selfie in the bathroom mirror, positioned just right that if the bottom of the mirror was any lower, she’d be getting an explicit view. The room suddenly feels about twenty degrees warmer and she fumbles to type her response.

Charlie: OMG Bryce! I’m in public you know

Bryce: That’s why I didn’t show you the rest 😉

Charlie: Very funny. I think I'll be getting my fair share of naked men tonight

Bryce: Hey! You don't need them when you have me

Charlie: Sorry, gotta go! TTYL

Charlie laughs to herself as she decides to put her phone away. She's starting to get looks for being on her phone so much, but she also likes having the upper hand with Bryce for once. She'd figured it was no coincidence Bryce kissed her the way that he did right after finding out there would be strippers at the bachelorette party, and his texts seem to confirm he's at least a little bit jealous. She thinks it's funny he's worried at all about them, but then again, look where she is with the last stripper she met.

They finish up lunch and Kyra and Charlie get a drink together at the bar before getting ready for the party. Charlie makes a point not to check her phone until she gets back to the suite, making herself comfortable on the bed before scrolling through his messages.

Bryce: You're killing me Charlie

Bryce: How about this

Bryce: You can skip any amateur league lap dances or whatever, and I'll give you one when you get back. Since you've already had the best, I'd hate for you to be disappointed by someone else's sub-par performance

Bryce: Deal?

Bryce: I'm headed out on the fishing boat now, so I might not be very available for the rest of the evening. Just be safe and have fun

Charlie is glad she’s alone because she’s probably got the stupidest grin on her face right now. Of course he uses his cocky front to pretend like he’d be doing her a service, but when she reads between the lines, she can’t deny any more that he’s into her. She’s still terrified of what it all means, but she just might be ready to take a risk and find out. 

~~~

“Damn, Charlie. You look hot!” Kyra compliments Charlie and her sweetheart neckline little black dress as she boards the party yacht. Katelyn gave strict instructions that all the bridesmaids were to wear black cocktail dresses, so she could stand out in white. At least they didn't have to wear any tacky "bride squad" t-shirts or penis paraphernalia.

“Thanks, you too! You’ve got legs for days!” Charlie remarks regarding Kyra’s short halter dress, and they both giggle.

"So what do you think of this boat? Pretty swanky, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess one good thing about Katelyn's desire to flaunt the family wealth is that we all get to benefit."

Kyra scoffs. "Must be nice to be on the rich side of the family."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Charlie apologizes. "My privileged asshole side is showing."

"Nah, you're good." Kyra claps her on the back. "For growing up like you did, you are surprisingly down to earth and relatively normal."

"And as painfully awkward and insecure as the best of them."

"Aww." Kyra pinches her playfully on the cheek. "That's what makes you so lovable. But not that insecurity crap. You are awesome and you should own it.”

Charlie sighs. “That’s the kind of thing Bryce keeps saying to me. Always telling me how amazing I am. It’s nauseating really.”

“Oh stop. If you don’t appreciate that man I will gladly take him off your hands.”

Charlie laughs. “No I’m good. I think I’ll keep him for awhile.” It comes out of her mouth so naturally, like she finally believes it’s a legit possibility rather than a hopeless fantasy. 

"So, should we grab a drink?” Kyra shifts her eyes to the bar.

Charlie holds her arm out, as if to escort Kyra. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The boat soon fills up with the remainder of the party guests - the Sarahs, Stephanie, Landry’s other groomsmen’s significant others, and a handful Katelyn's other friends that have just arrived in Jamaica for the wedding. They aren’t all bad, but Kyra and Charlie mainly stick together. As they move from cocktails through dinner, the guests are getting increasingly tipsy, and Stephanie appears to be rethinking her decision to be trapped at sea with a bunch of drunk women.

Charlie heads to the bathroom for a timeout from the noise and the crowd as they head to port to pick up the strippers. She’s proud of how well she’s pacing herself as she’s still determined not to get as drunk as that first night ever again. There’s still no new texts from Bryce on her phone, but then again she never did text him back. She scrolls up to his bathroom selfie to study it again and just looking at it makes her think unspeakable things. The tease is almost better than seeing the whole thing. 

Feeling a little brave with a couple of drinks in her, Charlie decides to send a selfie back. She fixes her hair in the mirror and straightens her dress. She’s got a decent amount of cleavage and her push-up bra is doing a fabulous job, but a little more wouldn’t hurt, so she adjusts her cups just so and snaps a picture, sending it off the caption, ‘hope you are having fun!’  Within seconds she can see Bryce is replying back.

Bryce: Woah. What are you doing wearing a dress like that when I’m not there to see you in it?

Charlie: There’s always later...

Bryce: I’m ready to go back to the room now if you are

Is he serious? It's tempting, but for a multitude of reasons, she can’t take him up on that offer even if he means it.

Charlie: But I can’t miss the strippers!

Bryce: You know I can take care of that for you

Charlie: But how do I know you are the best if I have nothing else to compare to?

Bryce: What am I going to do with you? 

Charlie: Maybe later you can show me

What's gotten into her? Just yesterday she could hardly look at Bryce without blushing and now she's sending him suggestive text messages.

Bryce: Oh, you bet I will

Well now she's blushing. Charlie splashes some cool water on her face and composes herself, rejoining the group just as the boat pulls up to the dock.

A short time later, two men dressed as law enforcement officers enter the boat. Charlie knows exactly what's going on, but with all the alcohol that's been collectively consumed, it causes a commotion. Charlie and Kyra sit back and laugh as everyone tries to figure out what's going on.

“Oh my god. They are all dumbasses.” Kyra rolls her eyes. “We stopped specifically to pick up the strippers.”

Charlie shakes her head. “This might be more entertaining than the actual show.”

“Ladies, we have a problem here.” The tall one with a Jamaican accent starts as the other shorter one with sandy blond hair pulls something out of his duffel bag. “You’ve started the party without us!”

Suddenly "Get Ur Freak On” starts blasting out of a small portable speaker and the two men tear away their shirts in unison. Once the initial confusion wears off, the drunk women start cheering. The strippers make their way to the makeshift stage area, while the party guests find seats in the chairs that were previously set up around it. Charlie and Kyra sit off as far as possible to the side to avoid being directly in the action. 

“Well they aren’t bad-looking at least,” Kyra assesses from afar. 

But they aren’t Bryce either. “They’re okay. Neither is really my type though.”

“Well when you have someone as perfect as Bryce, it’s hard to compare. I bet he’d make one hell of a good stripper.” Charlie shoots Kyra a look that in her mind conveys the terror of hitting too close to his secret being out, but Kyra must perceive it as something else. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t thirst after your boyfriend like that, but I’ve seen the way he can move.”

Charlie laughs nervously. “I’ll suggest it as a backup career if the whole surgeon thing falls through.” She breathes a side of relief that Kyra doesn’t really know his secret, but talking about him makes her think to check her phone again, and sure enough there’s another text from Bryce.

Bryce: Help! Bob is trying to make me keep up with him, and dude is like a professional drinker

Charlie: I doubt he’s forcing drinks down your throat. You can pace yourself

Charlie: Anyway, gotta go. Strippers are here! Charlie takes a quick picture of the shirtless dancers, still with police hats on, and sends it to Bryce before stashing her phone away.

The strippers, or Clive and Dan as they have introduced themselves, continue on to do their stripper thing, getting down to their very tiny underwear with ass cheeks bared. Charlie’s time in the strip club two weeks ago was more than enough exotic dancing for her to see in person for one lifetime, but she is enjoying watching the other women act like fools. In fact, Katelyn seems far more interested in these men than she ever has in Landry, but that’s not surprising. She always figured Katelyn would go for the first available man who could put up with her. Katelyn completed her undergraduate, but her real goal was the Mrs. degree.

Dan comes over towards Charlie with a massage oil slicked chest and encourages her to rub her hands on him to which she politely declines. However, Kyra has no problem jumping right in, and Charlie gives her the side-eye as soon as he moves on.

“What? Just because this is cheesy as hell doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. So far the only man I have touched in any way, shape or form on this trip is Bob.” Kyra shudders. “You have Bryce’s abs. Let me have these.”

Charlie chuckles. “You’re right. Feel all the abs. No more judgement from me.” 

The men alternate taking paying customers back to the captain’s quarters for brief, private lap dances, and when Kyra is approached by Dan, she takes him up on it. Charlie uses it as an excuse to step outside and check in with Bryce.

Bryce: Dude, cop outfits? That is laaaaaaaame

Charlie: Says the man who dresses up as a surgeon

Roughly two minutes later, Bryce replies back

Bryce: But theirs is fake

Charlie: And yours isn’t?

Bryce: Ive hadd lots to drunk. Bobby can be persusave

Charlie: I can see that. Don’t drink too much more. I don’t think I could carry you home.

Bryce: Don’t worry I fiiine. And rememembre Im the only stripper who gets to give you a lapdance. 

Charlie: We’ll see about that

Charlie leaves it at that and heads back inside. What she means is that given the state he seems to be in, she doubts he’ll be in any condition for anything but but bed when they get back. If he interprets it as her teasing that she might get a lap dance from one of these guys, she’s okay with that. He didn’t heed her advice to slow down on the booze, so he shouldn’t expect her to follow his direction either.

The strip show winds down after Katelyn gets a very lengthy private lapdance with Clive that raises some eyebrows, and not long after the boat pulls into the dock where the women are meeting up with Landry’s party.

“Woah!” Charlie struggles to maintain her balance with her first couple steps. “I haven’t had that much to drink. I guess sea legs are a real thing.”

“Somehow its easier to be tipsy and walk in heels on a yacht than it is to walk on solid ground right now,” Kyra observes. “Oh look, the guys are already here.” She nods towards the shoreline where most of the men don’t look in any better shape than the women.

Despite the fact that most everyone could stand to go home and go to bed immediately, the majority decide to hit up more clubs downtown.

“I think Bryce, and I are just going to head back,” Charlie tells Kyra. 

“Oh, yes.” Bryce agrees. “I’ve been waiting all night to get this one to myself.” He grabs Charlie and gives her a big, sloppy drunk kiss.

Kyra laughs. “Have fun with that.”

“Are you sure you are good if I leave?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, I’ll stick with the group. Plus Dan said he’d make sure I got back safely.” Kyra motions towards the now dressed in normal street clothes dancer. 

In the past Charlie would have been concerned about her friend going home with a stripper she’d just met, but now she’d be quite the hypocrite to raise objection. “I’m sure he will,” Charlie winks at Kyra and decides she’s been spending entirely too much time with Bryce.

Charlie guides Bryce on the short walk to the resort, and he wastes no time questioning her about her evening.

“Didn’t you see my last texts?”

“Oh, did you send me some more?” Charlie plays coy. She did briefly glance at his series of replies saying he hoped she was joking and worrying about why she wasn’t texting him back. She wants to mess with him some more, but now that he’s there in front of her she doesn’t have the heart. “Don’t worry, I saved my lap just for you.”

Bryce perks up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You know I really did miss you tonight.” Bryce puts his arm around Charlie but stumbles and almost brings them both to the ground. “Oops, sorry.”

“Let’s just focus on getting back to the room without incident.”

They step inside the building and make it up to the room. Charlie isn’t sure what Bryce still has planned, but she knows nothing but sleep is happening for him tonight. Charlie guides Bryce to the bedroom and sits down on the bed to take off her heels.

Bryce walks up in front of Charlie and starts playing with the first button on his shirt. “Are you ready for your show?” He works at the button but doesn’t even seem to have the coordination to get it undone.

“Maybe I should help you.” Charlie stands up and moves his hands to the side, easily popping the top button.

“I like where this is going buuut this isn’t how strippers work, silly.”

Charlie laughs under her breath. “I know but this shirt’s a little tricky for you right now. I’ll just undo the buttons.”

“Okay.” Bryce leans in close and sniffs her hair. “You smell so good Charlie. I just want to eat you.”

Bryce is wasted and as much as Charlie would typically be annoyed at this type of behavior, it’s the first time Bryce has let himself give up any sort of control around her. He’s actually kind of adorable when he’s drunk and she still owes him for taking care of her on that first night anyway.

Charlie slides the shirt over his shoulders and tosses it on the back of the armchair in the room. “I’m going to go change in the bathroom and let you finish up out here.

“Wait!” Bryce grabs her by the shoulders and sits her back down on the bed. “The show is not over yet. Bryce hastily peels off his undershirt with no finesse whatsoever and then unbuttons his jeans. He drops them down and when he tries to kick them off his feet, he goes tumbling to his hands and knees.”

“Are you okay?” Charlie untangles the pants and helps him to the bed.

“Maybe you were right. This was not my best performance. I owe you an IOU. Wait, does that sound right?” Bryce scratches his head.

Charlie shakes her head. “Just get comfortable and I’ll get you some water so you aren’t hating life in the morning.”

Bryce chugs down one glass and then another before lying back, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Charlie, you are the best. We should be together...for reeeaal. We’re both so pretty and we can be sucs- sussess- good doctors together.”

Charlie covers him with a sheet and tries to refrain from bursting out laughing because he’s clearly talking nonsense right now. “Goodnight, Bryce,” she whispers softly, but is only answered back by the sound of his snores.

[get-your-fics]

Violent Delights - Chapter Five

Nonstop

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER FOUR

You spent an hour and twenty-seven minutes in the bathroom of your luxury penthouse, and when you walked out, your hair was slicked back into a skilled updo, and your makeup was applied expertly. There wasn’t a hair out of place or a nick of lipstick on your teeth. It made me furious seeing how much effort you were putting in for your date with Brant. He was so self-centered, I doubt he would even take a second glance at you.

I sat in the backseat of my town car and stared down at the grainy video of you on the iPad in my lap. I had taken the time earlier before I had left your penthouse to install bugs in almost every room in your place. The tiny video cameras had been planted carefully so you wouldn’t notice them but I would still have a good view of everything you did. Now, I could keep tabs on you twenty-four seven with you being none the wiser, and I wouldn’t even have to leave my couch.

You hugged your cream-colored, silk robe close around your figure and walked over to the bed. You let it fall off your shoulders, revealing a fuchsia bra and panties. You were wearing matching underwear for him? I barely had time to appreciate your curves before you picked up the dress laid out on your bed and stepped into it. It had an open back and a plunging neckline that flaunted the swell of your breasts. My tongue ran over the healed cut on my lip I had sustained earlier. I didn’t want him to see you like this. No one should get to see you like this except for me.

You smoothed out the skirt of your dress with your hands before disappearing into your walk-in closet. When you came out, giant, cushion-cut diamonds hung from your ears, and a heavy, diamond necklace laid flat against your collarbone. It managed to cover up some of your ample cleavage. Hopefully, Brant would be too distracted by your bling to ogle your tits all night.

You slipped your feet into your Louboutins and slung your purse over your shoulder. In my hands were a pair of headphones plugged into the iPad that picked up the signal of the listening device hidden in your purse. I had snuck one into every single designer purse of yours, so no matter which one you chose, I would still be able to hear you when you went on your date tonight.

You strode out of the front doors of your apartment building and towards the town car parked at the curb. You climbed into the backseat, and I clicked off the iPad, the screen flickering to black. I pointed at your car as it teared down the road, leaving tire tracks in its wake. “Follow that car,” I instructed my chauffeur.

He merely gave me a quick nod of his head before pulling onto the street. There was no doubt he knew I was stalking you now. I mean, he was the one who drove me to your penthouse everyday where I sat and watched for hours. But I paid him well enough so he knew to keep his mouth shut.

It was rush hour, which meant we ran into a lot of traffic. Usually, I would hate it, but with so many cars on the road swerving and honking at each other made it even easier to follow you while looking inconspicuous. We followed you for a couple of blocks before your car pulled up in front of a classy restaurant. It looked like the kind of joint that you needed to reserve a table at months in advance in order to get in. Well, unless you were me.

I watched you get out of your car and strut into the restaurant. Your town car drove away, and mine took its spot. I popped the headphones in my ears and listened as you approached the hostess. The audio quality wasn’t the best, since the tiny mic in your purse crackled with every movement, but it was manageable. “Hi, I’m meeting Brant Jones for dinner. Is he here yet?”

There was a pause before I heard a faint voice reply, “Yes, he is. Right this way.”

I looked up, and through the windows of the building, I could see you being led to a table in the corner of the restaurant. I could just make out Brant’s head of slicked, brown hair as he leaned back in his chair. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a striped tie, and he looked every part the rich douchebag who manipulated vulnerable, naive girls for his own gain. When you approached, he stood from his chair and wrapped his arms around you. You returned the embrace and rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes falling closed in bliss.

My jaw ached from clenching it so hard, and I felt like I had venom running through my veins. You separated from each other, and I watched your lips move, but all I heard through my headphones was static. He pulled your chair out for you, and you gracefully sat down with your back to me. I ripped my headphones out of my ears. I needed to get closer. I needed to be able to see your face and hear your voice, or I was sure I was going to snap from staring at Brant all night.

I popped open the car door. “Drive around the block until I get back,” I said to my chauffeur without further explanation.

I caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Yes, Mr. Wayne,” he responded.

I hopped out and slammed the door shut firmly behind me. I listened to the sound of tires scraping against gravel as the car pulled away behind me. I tugged on the lapels of my blazer and marched into the restaurant, past the cluster of nicely dressed people waiting to see if they could get a reservation, and straight up to the hostess. I ran a hand through my raven locks and pressed my palms flat against the table separating us. “I need,” I pointed to a table that was currently being cleared by a waiter, “that table.”

The hostess arched an over-plucked brow at me. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No.” There was no waver in my voice.

“Then I’ll have to put you down on our two hour long waitlist.” She flashed me a condescending smile. “Can I have your name, sir?”

My lips curled into a small smirk as I said, “Bruce Wayne.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Bruce Wayne? As in, Wayne Enterprises?”

I suppressed an eye roll. “Do you know any other Bruce Waynes?” She opened her mouth to speak, and I held up a finger, stopping her. “That was rhetorical.” I reached inside my blazer and retrieved my leather wallet. “How much is it going to cost to get that table over there?”

The hostess chewed on her bottom lip and glanced around to make sure no one was watching us. “A hundred dollars,” she said in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her.

I raised a brow. I easily would have paid a grand. I looked down and opened my wallet, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. I held it out to her, and she snatched it from my hand, stuffing it in her black button-up before anyone could see.

“Right this way, Mr. Wayne.” She turned and guided me to the table I had indicated. I took a seat and grabbed the white napkin folded into an origami bird of paradise on the table. “Your waitress will be right with you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, not even looking at her. I absentmindedly put my napkin in my lap as I stared at you across the room. I had picked a table situated a good ways away from you so it would be hard to pick me out from the rest of the high class diners, but still close enough that I could see you and Brant and listen in on your conversation.

I was worried that I had missed something vital, but it seemed like you had only had time to order drinks and receive them. I was surprised to see that neither of you were drinking alcohol, not even Brant, and had opted for iced teas instead. “I miss you,” Brant said with a tender look in his eyes that was so unlike him.

“I know, I’ve missed you too. I’ve just been so busy recently, it’s crazy. I swear, it’s like I’ve been running from meeting to meeting to meeting nonstop. I hardly sleep anymore.” You laughed, but then you leaned on your elbows and rubbed your temples, and I could see the exhaustion in your eyes. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to bundle you in my arms and rock you until you fell asleep.

“It sounds like you need a break.” He tilted his head to the side.

“You never really get a break as a fundraising chairman. It’s a full-time job.” You gestured with your glass in your hand as you spoke. “I work around the clock. No one really understands how much effort goes into the stuff I do.”

“I do. It’s why I don’t get to see you as much,” he teased.

You took it seriously though. “I know,” you reached for his hand on the table and intertwined your fingers, “and I’ll try to make more time for you.”

“It’s not me you should worry about. Your mom misses you like crazy.” There it was, your mom again. What was the deal with her?

You scoffed. “Oh, please. All that woman wants to do is take me to the salon or to the mall. No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

“Well, what’s that?” He quirked a brow as his eyes scanned over you. “A new dress?”

“Hey, I have to look the part.” You rolled your eyes. “High society needs to know they can trust me to send their money to the right places.”

“Well, you look nice.” His lips curled into a genuine smile. “Really, you do.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I snapped my head to see a petite waitress hovering over my table. “Uh...” I pretended to glance at the drink menu. “I’ll have a glass of whatever your house chardonnay is.”

I grabbed the menu and pushed it into her chest before looking back at you. I could still feel her presence, the wheels in her mind turning as she contemplated whether or not she should card me. After a second, I heard her murmur a quick, “I’ll be back,” before she scurried off like a scared, little mouse.

I tuned back into the conversation. “You really should try to relax every once in a while, though. The stress can’t be good.” The concern in Brant’s voice was evident. “You do a lot of great things for the community, but we can’t have you breaking down. Sometimes, I think you’re a little too addicted to giving back.”

“There’s worse things to be addicted to.” You shrugged. Brant’s demeanor slightly fell. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, it’s okay,” he insisted.

“How is your recovery going, by the way?” You messed with the cloth napkin in your lap. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is good. I’ve been clean for about two months now.” He smiled proudly. “But don’t try and change the subject on me. You’re not off the hook yet.” He laughed. “Can you at least try to unwind a little bit every now and then? Even if it’s just to have dinner with me?”

A giggle tumbled out from between your lips. “Okay.” You nodded firmly. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” His gaze was filled with pure adoration. “I love you.”

The corners of your lips tugged upwards into a small smile. “I love you too.”

He rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, and my stare burned a hole into his head. I love you? How could you say you love him? He was worse than me! When I knew him, he snorted coke and visited strip clubs and paid for prostitutes. This was all obviously some type of act, some show he was putting on to deceive you. How could you fall for it? How could you not see through it as easily as I could?

I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles turned white and my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to split his skull open, to see the fear fill his eyes as I raised a knife only to bury it in his gut. I wanted to skin him alive and chop off his head and put it on a spike and display it in my front lawn as a warning. A warning to all the people who thought they could take what’s mine, and I wanted you to be there to see all of it.

“Here’s your drink.” The waitress set down a glass of greenish yellow liquid, breaking me out of my trance. She stood up straight and clasped her hands in front of her. “Have you decided what you want to order?”

I rested my head against my hand. “Actually, I’ll just get the check. Thanks.” I dismissed her with a wave, and she hesitated a moment before scampering away. I was losing my wits with you. All the dark urges I’ve tried to suppress with all the clubbing and the drinking and the drugs were surfacing again because of my obsession with you. I needed to stop, needed to distance myself from you before I completely lost control. You might not know when to take a break, but I certainly did.

I heard laughter drifting over from your table, and I looked down at my hands in my lap. I uncurled my fists to see eight little cuts dripping scarlet blood down my palms, staining my pale skin red.

-

I trudged into Wayne Manor, my head slightly spinning from the glass of chardonnay on an empty stomach. For once, Alfred didn’t immediately bombard me on my way in, and I prayed to God I wouldn’t run into him for the rest of the night. I turned into the living room, prepared to drown my sorrows in whiskey and marijuana until I felt another presence in there with me. My body tensed, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge.

“Hi.” Grace stepped forward shyly. “Alfred let me in. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”

Goddamn that fucking butler. “No, not at all.” I walked over to the mini bar and grabbed a bottle of dark liquid. “Would you like a drink?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

Did I even have to ask? I set out two glasses and twisted the cap off the bottle. I tipped it and poured the whiskey into the crystal glasses. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She smiled sheepishly. “You were acting really weird that night a couple weeks ago at the Towers, and I haven’t seen you since then.” “Yeah, sorry. I got kind of busy.” I put the bottle back and held out a glass to her.

“Thanks.” She took it from me and sipped the liquid. She pulled away and made a face before regaining her composure. “I understand that lifestyle can be too much sometimes. I don’t blame you for taking a break from all of that. Sometimes, I need a break myself.” She huffed.

I nodded like I understood, but I couldn’t remember an instance where she had ever declined going out on the town with us. “Right. Well, it was really sweet of you to check up on me, but I’m okay, so...” I put my hand on her shoulder to lead her out.

She grabbed my hand and spun around so she was facing me. “I have to admit, I also missed you.” She batted her eyelashes up at me.

I swallowed my repulsion. “We sure have grown close over the past couple of months, haven’t we?”

“Mmm, very close,” she purred and ran a hand down my chest. “I know you’ve been struggling a lot recently, and I probably can’t relate to what you’re going through, but I’ll always be here for you. No matter what, okay?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “Thanks, Grace.”

“Of course,” she whispered. Without another word, she wrapped her fingers around the lapels of my blazer and pulled my face down to meet hers. She connected our lips in a rushed kiss. My limbs froze in surprise, and my eyes widened. But after a second, I closed my eyes and kissed her back. Maybe she could help me finally get you off of my mind.

I grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up. She pulled away from me as an excited giggle escaped from her lips. She folded her legs around my waist and draped her arms over my shoulders, resuming the kiss. Her heels dug into my lower back until they fell to the floor with a clatter. I carried her out of the living room and down the hall, kicking the door to my bedroom open with my foot.

I dropped her onto the bed with a bounce, and she laughed. She sat up on her elbows and spread her legs, revealing a glimpse of the lacy underwear she was wearing. I climbed on top of her and crashed my lips against hers. I pushed up the skirt of her dress over her hips and hooked my thumbs under the fabric of her panties. She slid a hand in between our bodies and palmed me through my pants.

As hard as I tried, she just wasn’t doing it for me. Nothing about Grace excited me or turned me on anymore. Without realizing it, my thoughts filled with the images of you undressing as I had watched from inside your closet unbeknownst to you. I thought about how smooth and soft your skin looked, how badly my hands ached to feel your curves. I could feel my growing erection straining against the confines of my pants.

I tugged Grace’s underwear down her tan legs and tossed them to the side. I sat back on my heels and stared down at her. “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”

She blinked. “Okay.” She did as I said and turned over, sticking her ass in the air.

I unzipped my pants and pushed them down along with my boxers in one fell swoop, freeing my hardening cock. I pumped my length in my hand a couple of times before lining up with her entrance. She wiggled her hips, pushing back against me impatiently. I gripped her hips before thrusting into her almost to the hilt. She was so wet, I entered her easily. I moved my hips back and impaled her again, setting a slow pace.

“Fuck, Bruce!” she moaned. “That feels so good!”

My eyes snapped open. Her voice was too high-pitched, too whiny. It was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard or a cat’s scratchy howl. Yours was the complete opposite. It was husky and sultry and smooth as silk. I leaned forward and clasped my hand over her mouth. “Shut up. Don’t talk,” I panted as I continued to pound into her.

She whimpered, but the sound was muffled by my hand. From this angle, I couldn’t see her face, making it easier to pretend you were the one I was fucking instead. I increased my speed and felt pleasure rising in my gut. My hand slipped from her mouth as I held onto her hips again, my fingers digging into her flesh as I thrusted into her.

“(Y/N),” your name spilled from my lips involuntarily. “God, (Y/N).” It was barely more than a whisper, but Grace’s head perked up. “Wha... what?” she managed through breathy moans.

My eyes flashed with fury, and I buried a hand in her tangled hair. I yanked her head back. “I said don’t talk!” I grunted.

She let out a sharp yelp. “Bruce, you’re hurting me!”

I growled and shoved her face down into the pillow. She started to cry or mewl. Which one it was, I couldn’t tell because the noise was stifled by the pillow. And  I didn’t care. I was too enthralled in chasing my own pleasure and the image I had of you locked into my brain.

I remembered I still had your ruined panties in my pants pocket, and I dug them out. I brought them up to my nose and inhaled deeply. Your scent combined with my own release triggered my orgasm, and my hips snapped against Grace’s one last time before I spilled my seed into her. I grunted as a wave of ecstasy washed over me. I pulled out of her and collapsed limp onto the bed next to her, my body coated in a sheen of sweat and your panties dangling from my fingers.

I guess my break hadn’t lasted long.

CHAPTER SIX

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 35)

"That FUCKING Jacket...."

@lovemythsworld

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

Ashley and Dom hit Colson's early Tuesday morning. They're all in the kitchen.

Colson and Dom making phone calls, working out last minute details for I'm Ok. They're gonna shoot the video tomorrow.

Ashley and Luna deal with promotion and other things regarding Nightmare. Confirming it's up and streaming, that sketches of their merch have been received and that they'll have proto types of them before the end of the week. Finishing up by scheduling a meeting with Randall Marshall from AL's chapter of the ACLU for next week.

The girls sweetly tell Their Boys goodbye before they leave for a radio interview at KISS FM.

-----------------------------------------------

"THIS is gonna be FOOKING SICK!!" Dom declares hopping around the kitchen like a jumping bean. Laughing, Colson agrees as he looks for his weed.

"Hold on man, I'll be right back." He tells Dom, heading upstairs. Looking around his room, Luna's leather catches his eye hanging on the knob of the closet door.

"I hate that FUCKING thing." He thinks to himself, fire flashing inside of him as he grabs a mason jar of bud.

Back downstairs Colson asks Dom if he thinks Ashley would mind doing him a favor. "I don't see why not, Mate. What is it?" He asks as Colson explains.

------------------------------------------------

The interview is fun and engaging. Ryan praising them on Nightmare's instant success, it's empowering message and insane video. Applauding their efforts for wanting to help AL as they mention the merch donations. The girls are delighted and proud. Ashley mostly talks as Luna chimes in when she wants to.

"Now, I have to ask. Shot by a woman, all female cast, written and sang by 2 powerful women. Was it an all female production from top to bottom too?" Seacrest asks.

"No." Luna steps in. Her next words surprise Ashley. "We're backed and produced by MGK and his Guys."

Ryan pulls his head back "Are you who he's dating, Brooklyn? I've been hearing rumours." He leads.

"The idea was to flip that old saying 'Behind every great man, is a great woman.' Here you have a strong group of men backing strong women." She responds, completely side stepping his question. "We're not looking for separation or dominance, Ryan. We WANT support and equality." She finishes firmly.

Ashley smirks as Luna shrugs her one shoulder to Seacrest's annoyance. They chat a bit more about the project and the women involved. Ending the interview with Thank Yous as Nightmare plays them out.

Off Air Ryan says to Luna shaking his head "You're never gonna give me anything On Air are you, Loons?"

"Nope." She confirms with a smile to his laughing hug before she leaves.

"Tell him I said Hi." He yells down the hall to her laugher as she skips away.

-----------------------------------------------

Back in Ashley's Wrangler, she looks at Luna. "I thought you were gonna out yourself for a second."

Luna looks at her sideways. "Psh. Yeah right." She laughs "Just giving credit where credits due." As she fires up a joint.

"Clever cover up." Ashley accepts it from Luna.

"I thought so." Both girls laughing, getting stoned as they head to Ashley's favorite nail salon. Luna needs a manicure after NY.

-------------------------------------------------

Ashley and Luna walk into Colson's to quick kisses and Colson pulling Ashley back out the door. A confused Luna grabs a beer and heads upstairs to change. She's going to sit by the pool, burn, hang out with Dom, Benny and Rook. Trying to make sense of the dozens of lyrics rolling around her head

🎶Out on the West Coast//They got a saying//If you're not drinking//You're not creating//And I've//Found the music//Yeah, I've got music//Boy Blue//Without you🎶 She writing a love song about CA to NY. Knowing in her heart, it's metaphor.

-----------------------------------------------

"Thanks for your help." Colson tells Ashley as they get back into his Rover. He's lighting a joint.

"I'm telling you, Kells. She'll like this one, and you might have a chance if you explain it to her well. She may even tuck the other away for you, but she'll never get rid of it."

"I know, Ash." He sighs. "I can't fucking stand seeing it though, especially with her shoulder the way it is."

"Welcome to Life With Loons, Kells. You wanted a rider, you got one." She takes the joint from him.

"I know...." He sighs again with a groan.

-----------------------------------------------

After taking a shower Luna throws on a thin short, blue flannel dress with fishnet thigh highs, chunky, heeled booties and a solid red lip. Her blonde hair loose. Colson watches her get dressed. He loves the way she moves. They're headed to his friend Logan's for a party. She grabs her leather to his dismay.

"Kitten...." He starts. "Can I talk to you for a sec." She looks at him concerned. Sitting next to him on the bed, leather in her lap. "I don't know how to say any of this." He tells her, thinking of Ashley's words.

"Just say it, Colson." Luna's part worried, part becoming annoyed.

"I hate that fucking jacket." He spits out, without thinking.

"What." Her lip is cocked, eyebrows furrowed. Confused.

He grabs her leather and holds it up in front of them. "All THIS." He cirlces the safety pins securing the bullet hole. "I fucking hate THIS." She's silent, looking at him sideways. She flips her right arm over. Exposing the cockroach on her right forearm again. He gives her a nasty look back.

"I knew she was gonna be a fucking cunt about this." He thinks annoyed.

********************************************

"Mothersfuckers steady be trying to tell me what to fucking do." Her mind flashes angrily.

She breaks her silence, trying to choose her words. "We're new, so we're gonna be careful here. I get that you don't like Jax and I's relationship. And me getting shot while on a job with him only amplifies that. But you need to look at THIS." She circles the bobby pins on the jacket "As not of him, but of ME. I didn't need him to save me. I dropped that cop, MYself. I had enough time and adrenaline to get me AND my shit the fuck up outta there. On my own. He was a simple helping hand, a reason why you don't do a job alone." She states matter of fact. She puts her hand on the side of his face, looking into his blue eyes. "The jacket isn't a big deal to me, but, you trusting me and respecting what I do is, Bunny. I will always take your opinion into consideration. But, please don't ever think you can tell me what to fucking do, Colson. Ever." She leans up and kisses his silent lips.

"I feel like This Bitch just mind fucked me. And that I should feel bad for not seeing her strength in it, the way she does." He thinks confused with himself.

She stands up, tucking it in her bag. "I'll grab a new one tomorrow." She says nonchalantly.

"No. Don't." He finally tells her. "Wear whatever you want, Kitten. You're right." He stands up, pulling it back out of her bag and her into his arms. Giving her a deep, understanding kiss. His touch makes her body flush and lips plump, any annoyance slipping away. "I love you, Loons. Every fucking little piece of you." He tells her after the kiss. "I did get you something though." He kisses her on the mouth before letting her go to pull a box out from under the bed.

She laughs loudly, blue eyes sparkling as she opens the box to find a FABULOUS black leather jacket with studding and small red details.

"THIS MOTHERFUCKER." Her heart bursting.

"You weren't playing, hunh?" She asks continuing to laugh as she slides it on.

"No." He laughs sheepishly with her.

"You're a fucking maniac." She tells him, laughing still as she jumps into his arms and throws her arms over his shoulders. "I love it, tho. Thank you." Kissing him. 🎶And then She had 2🎶 She sings to him, both of them laughing. Kissing each other passionately, her legs are wrapped around his waist as his hands grip her thick ass. She squeezes him tightly with her body as he slides his middle finger inside of her, making her moan out. Kissing hard, bucking against his hand. "FUCK me." She begs him into his ear.

He slides her down his body, whipping her around quickly, his cock is throbbing for her. Bending her over, he runs his hands up her ass, pushing her flannel dress up before he slides her black patties down to her ankles.

"Fucking black." He smiles to himself.

❗SLAP❗ He spanks her hard with his large hand before running his finger along her soft pussy lips. Dropping his pants, he stands behind her red ass, dick bulging. "You want this?" He teases her. She begs Yes, before he slowly pushes into her moans. He groans pulling her back by her hair "FUCK, KITTEN!!!" He calls out, gripping her hip, fully entering her. Beginning to fuck her hard.

She bounces her ass off his dick, walls clenching around the size of his huge cock. Seeing stars.

"Who's dick is this?" He demands.

"MINE." She pants at him.

"WHO'S DICK IS IT?" He pulls her hair tighter.

Slamming into him, she moans loudly with authority "MINE! It's MY FUCKING DICKKK." Her cries make them both explode for the other.

-------------------------------------------------

Walking into the party, Colson introduces Luna to a couple of his friends. Logan, his brother Jake and Jake's fiancé, Tana. Colson and Luna sit sharing a beer with Them, Mod, Phem, Benny, Rook, Slim and a few others. He pulls her intimately into him, by the neck. Kissing her on the forehead just before Tana yanks her away to both of their disliking.

------------------------------------------------

Colson continues to bust it up with The Brothers. Talking about Jake's upcoming wedding.

"You guys seem to really got IT." He tells Colson, commenting on him and Luna. "Think you'll take the plunge, Bruh?" He asks him.

Colson chuckles, looking down. "I don't know if she'd let me lock it down like that, Dawg. She's something else...." He trails off. "She DID get tatted with me tho."  Colson beams, proudly showing off their matching ink to The Brothers.

--------------------------------------------

Looking for Luna a bit later reminds Colson of his birthday. He's on a balcony looking down, trying to find her again. Then he remembers what Tommy did. Leaning over the rail, just the same, he bellows "BROOOOKLLYYYYYNNNN!!!!!" Searching for THAT bangled wrist. He finds it and her eyes. They stare into the other, mesmerized, locked in silence with only them, The World raging outside their bubble. He throws his arms up with his cigarette burning, grinning at her for a moment before he goes to get her.

"Damn, she looks good in that jacket." Colson stared long at Luna before heading down to meet her. "I fucking love her." He thinks, happy she chose to wear his.

********************************************

A smile breaks out onto Luna's face as she hears Colson holler for her. "Oh, thank Fuck." She sighs in relief, like their first night. Lifting a freshly painted, black fingernail, she finds him. Tana finally goes silent to Luna, once they lock eyes. All she can hear is her love for him

🎶I see🎶My Bunny🎶Swaying🎶His Newport is on fire🎶His hands are up🎶From the balcony🎶He's calling "Brooklyn"🎶I think🎶Move Bitch🎶Move Bitch🎶I'm in love🎶I'm in love🎶I'm in love🎶

--------------------------------------------------

Sitting at the table playing Dominos, Colson watches Luna walk to grab them 2 more beers. He fires up a joint as he sees a Dude walk over to her and put his hand on the small of her back, making Colson's blue eyes go dark. She moves away from Dude, shaking her head, saying something and flashing a quick smile before walking back towards him with their beers. Colson stands up quickly when he sees Luna stop abruptly. She throws words over her shoulder before continuing to walk back towards him, rolling her eyes.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks her as she sits down next to him. Opening their beers. He passes her the joint.

"Nothing, she sighs, taking it. Handing him his beer. He looks at her. She knows he's not accepting that. "He tried to hit on me, I politely declined, he called me a cunt." She throws her hands out. "It's whatever, Bunny, don't sweat it." She says giving him a reassuring kiss.

He kisses her back, checks out his hand but keeps an eye on Dude.

-------------------------------------------------

As Slim, Rook, Benny and a slightly drunk Colson leave the party, he's holding Luna's hand. Walking passed Dude, Colson hears him say "Yeah, THAT'S that stuck up cunt."

THAT'S all it takes.........

------------------------------------------------

To be continued.......

[hellimagines]

18 Months (Epilogue Headcanons) — Michael Langdon

Here is the official final part of 18 Months. It’s been a journey.

After Michael proposes to you, the two of you sneak off to the oh-to familiar bed down the hall

Gallant sleeps on the couch with earplugs, blasting music he hasn’t gotten to listen to in almost two years, and catching up on all the things he ‘missed’

(Its all fake celebrity news and fashion trends at this point, the universe trying to fill in the blanks Michael left behind)

The wedding is planned for Halloween of next year- all three of you need time to get accustomed to life once again (and you discreetly wanna be able to invite some of the homies from Murder House, but to do so, you’ve gotta convince everyone to make amends)

Gallant takes over the salon in full, putting his name on the front of the building with encouragement from you

You’re the one to keep him sober and on track, wanting to prove Evie wrong in the after life

Michael rebuilds The Cooperative, but it’s different this time, because he knows better than to destroy the world

The Cooperative is now a sort of... hit-man agency for assholes in power (🙄🙄). Michael and you use The Cooperative to weed out everyone that could potentially cause the apocalypse, now that you know exactly what will happen if it does happen. You’re basically Angels of Merch but low key and won’t admit it (Gallant stays out of that bullshit)

You, Michael, and Gallant get into so many fucking fights about where you’ll live (but everyone agrees no on Hawthorne). You wanna live in Murder House so you can rekindle everyone and it’s a total aesthetic. Gallant wants to live in his Nana’s mansion because ‘it’s fucking huge Y/N!!! You’re being d u m b, pack your bags and let’s go’. Michael wants Mead’s small house but he also wants Robichaux’s bc it’s in New Orleans and means a lot to him (sentimental fuck).

You guys rock paper scissor for it (“Don’t use your guys’ magic or I’ll fucking cry”)

You choose rock, Gallant chooses scissors, and Michael chooses paper

It’s hell for the whole day

Until finally you manage to sit everyone down over dinner and explain to them why you think Murder House is the best option (“Y/N it’s called murder house you’re fucking trippin”)

Despite all the comments, side eyes, huffs, scoffs, and groans... you win. You all decide to finally leave The Ritz and move into Murder House- But the boys still keep the deeds to their respective homes, and you Robichaux.

Moving into MH is... a hassle to say the least. The second Michael steps foot through the door, Tate is there (Gallant fucking screams “WHY DOES HE HAVE MY FACE”)

Tate and Michael get in a yelling match that you’re trying to referee, until finally, you just kinda... scream. It scares Michael so bad bc he thinks you’re hurt, and he body checks Tate out of the way (Tate doesn’t think you’re half bad)

Things are tense and awkward the first few days (Gallant nearly refuses to pee bc “y/n they’re gonna watch” and you refuse to shower bc “Michael they’re gonna watch” and Michael has a headache)

But within a month, things are alright. You’ve befriended Rose and Tate right off the bat (respectively told Constance to “get fucked”) and caught Nora up to speed on today’s events. Everyone is #shook she likes you

Gallant hates Chad, never says why, but just know that he does. He prefers Violet and Vivian, and the occasional Ben (“I’m a slut for Harmon’s I guess” “guess I’m a slut for Langdons then. What’s Michael a slut for?” “You, red eyeshadow, and wearing his fuCKING SHOES IN THE HOUSE”)

Michael doesn’t let you get a job even tho you tried to physically fight him over it once. Instead, you become his partner with The Cooperative shenanigans and organize most of the hits

Everybody thinks you’re in a poly relationship with Gallant and Michael (none of you correct them except Michael sometimes bc he’s confused about what that is)

By the time October rolls around, you’re shaking 24/7 (“I didn’t think I was actually gonna get married” “you said yes did you mean no” “nO! I love you and I wanna get married I just...” “I’ll be right here, don’t worry” “I’d sure fucking hope so”)

Your wedding dress is red (Constance screams) with black rose decals (pretty similar to The Outpost dress, but not quite)

Michael’s suit is red, too, with a black tie (“you wear black suits everyday, switch it up for her” “what do you know Gallant” “fashion that’s what you fucking punk”)

Gallant wears white with a red tie (Constance screams)

Gallant is the best man, obviously, and Madelyn is the maid of honor (she survived the apocalypse... Hannah is nowhere to be seen)

Jeff and Mutt beg on their knees to stand at the alter, so Michael lets them. You let Tate, Rose, and Ben stand on at the alter (read: forced)

The wedding is held at Gallant’s mansion, because it’s the biggest house to your guys’ name with the largest backyard

Somehow

Someway

You and Michael had grown a name-to-fame in the year leading up to the wedding

The place is packed and there’s celebrities (Gallant knows half of them, and you wanna faint bc “oh my god is that Harry styles?????? Michael is that Harry styles?????” “U gonna leave me for him?” “I fucking might” “then no, it’s not”)

The wedding goes smooth as fuck (shockingly). The Satanic Church members are in attendance (with an oath not to call Michael Satan and keep that shit under wraps), certain Murder House tenants (“I don’t wanna carpool”), and of course, Gallant’s celebrity bitches

Gallant does yours AND Michael’s hair, and it’s truly spectacular

You and Michael make your own vows, and don’t have a priest (confuses ppl but they don’t care bc the food is g r e a t and the aesthetic is perfect for pictures)

Gallant cries his eyes out. Madelyn looks proud as fuck. Jeff and Mutt look smug (especially Jeff. If he talks to anyone that night it’s “I’m the reason they’re married. Don’t forget that”)

Even though you’re now legally (Y/N) Langdon, and no longer have Foxx anywhere near your name, Michael still calls you that on the daily

You get a tattoo of a fox on your shoulder for his birthday, with ‘don’t tell me what to do’ scrawled on the bottom

Gallant goes with you to get it down, and he and Tate are the only ones who know about it, because nobody else in the house can keep a secret AND Tate helped draw the fox (it’s a typical red fox, but on a red and black backdrop that kinda looks like a moon [“Jesus get a new color scheme y/n” “suck my ass Tate you look like that bitch from blues clues”] but the fox has one (e/c) eye and one blue, and tiny horns poking out of his head)

For Michael’s birthday, you go to Ms. Mead’s home so you can be alone

Michael is sat patiently on the bed, tapping his bare thigh while watching you strip down

“I have a present”

“You are my present some c’m here”

“No, look”

You turn around slowly, exposing your shoulder. It’s in the spot Michael always rests his head when he holds onto your hips

Michael is off the bed in a second, rushing over to you. He traces the design carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll smudge even tho it’s weeks old (grumpasaurus-Rex sometimes during those weeks when you wouldn’t take your shirt off)

Michael is speechless, and you can feel your blush running from your cheeks to your neck

“It’s fucking beautiful”

“You think so?”

Michael doesn’t respond. He just kisses the tattoo before grabbing onto you and tossing you to the bed

And that, is the end of Langfox’s journey (with Gallant ofc). I tried to tie up as many things as possible, but my askbox is always open for questions, concerns, thoughts, or just love💕🖤❤️ Also, this was written on my phone, so I’m sorry if it looks weird.

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2020

#9 - Break the Rules, by Claire Boston

Mount TBR: 9/150

Rating: 1/5 stars

I know I sometimes ding "office" romances for basically never having their characters be at work, but this book proves it's possible to err in the other direction. They're always working or talking about work. Near the beginning sometimes they're talking about scuba diving instead, and then after they get together they take breaks from talking about work long enough to have some sex, and then sometimes an external conflict comes up in the form of his brother and her best friend being impulsive and inconsiderate jackasses. Oh, and the tedious and heavy-handed foster-sister setup to briefly raise awareness for the political and social strife in many Central American countries, which is true but so out of place in context with the rest of the book, where it doesn't inform anything about the plot or even do all that much to give Bridget personality as her backstory. But 75% of the book is about being a safety manager at an oil refinery. I signed up for a romance, thanks, could you give me a real romance? Because this isn't one. There's attraction that gets their relationship started, sure. Then the realization that he's her new boss cools things down, but he gets pushy (which I did not like!) about making a relationship happen anyway. Finally, somewhere around midway through, he accepts "no" for an answer and they agree to remain friends. (Which absolutely should have happened earlier if I wasn't supposed to think Jack was a jerk. And he was mostly nice other than that, so I think he was not supposed to be a jerk.) But then Bridget almost immediately goes back on her decision, and then circumstances force them to move in together, and then disaster happens at the plant and Bridget proves herself capable and saves the day. Which was the real climax of the story, not the culmination of the thin romance. Have I ever leveled the criticism at a romance that I think it needs more sex scenes? I think that's a first, but I do want more sex scenes, because every time the scene cut away from or glossed over their sexy times, I was denied an opportunity to see how they treated each other, how they connected. Because it wasn't happening at work, where they were trying to play it cool for everyone else's benefit. This is a "romance" where the personal vindication/validation arc of the heroine took over the entire book and left very little room for actual romance, or anything else, really. Though I do question why she's best friends with Tanya who never seems to do anything worthy of having friends, and is a constant source of irritation for Bridget, from the big stuff like "oops I got married and I'm moving out so I guess you should live with your boss" to the little "this is my party so you have to wear the dress I pick out and have your hair straightened because I say so even though I know you hate sitting in salons doing nothing for hours, do it for meeeee." Tanya isn't a person, she's three external conflicts in a trench coat.

[moramortar]

Friend reacts to all DR1 and SDR2 characters

Sayaka- nice?? Like she looks nice but she might actually kill you. Ya know like the shy one that decides “you know what? I’m. Gonna shoot up a school”

Mukuro junko- she looks like your typical girl that starts arguments and issues in the classroom but everyone still loves her and tries to ignore the fact that she’s a raging bitch. She’s still pretty though!

Leon- ummm he kinda looks like a dad but like not a very good one. Like he looks like a punk rock dad that left his kids with their drunk mom.

Chihiro- she looks pure, like no ones ever wronged her, like she hasn’t experienced real life. *shes a boy* oops. Well—

Mondo- oh jeez. He honestly looks like an armadillo, he looks like your typical tough guy that ya know writes poetry in his room but doesn’t tell anyone. Lowkey looks like dean winchester

Taka- he seems like the guy that would like,, dance a lot at a party, like that crazy one, but he’d probably be scary like one of those scary drunks. I’d probably be his friend.

Hifumi- he seems annoying, like that kid that walks in a class thinking everyone likes him but he’s lying to himself cause everyone hates him

Celeste- umm. The Emo of the class. But really nice though! Just really emo

Sakura- oh wait yeah this is a girl right? I forgot about that. The guys are scared of her bc they wish their thighs were as thunderously elegant as hers and girls are scared of her bc she looks like she’d literally mess them up.

Mukuro- she seems like, like a book writer or an artsy person. She has plants in her room that she calls her children but seriously her eyes make her seem like she could be a serial killer. She could be Ted bundys long lost daughter *shes a soldier* wiTH THOSE ARMS?? NO. ITS LOKE TELLING ME TO BE THOR FOR A DAY.

Makoto- he seems like the kid that everyone just kinda pushes to the side but I’d be friends with him cause he’s cool. He might be a musician or an artist of some kind. Probably gets in fights frequently but he’d probably look good with a black eye so it’s ok

Byakuya- umm... he looks like that preppy kid that I would hate but he’s probably a nice guy it’s just I would lowkey wanna Stab a spork through his eye. Specifically a spork cause they’re superior.

Toko- she definitely looks like someone that people would not think could do karate or some kind of violent action. She looks like she wouldn’t be capable of commiting a murder but she honestly could. Like choke her with her braids or something.

Genocider- interesting. She reminds me of that guy from kiss. I think that’s his daughter. I’d probably be friends with both. She seems like a cool person, she’d probably kill me but I’d still be friends with her.

Hina- she looks like she’d be on the swim team, she seems like just a regular teenage girl but she might be a dancer but that’d be rough cause she’s packing a lot in her chest area. Yeah but she looks like an athlete.

Hagakure- hm. He looks like he goes to the beach a lot, like he looks like a beach boy. Idontknowsasjsh yeah he seems like an ordinary guy, I don’t know why he thinks wearing flip flops.... HONESTLY I don’t like guys that wear flip flops.

Kyoko- she looks like she came straight out of twilight not gonaa like, she looks like she’s friends with the emo girl from earlier. Like one of those pastel emos that still listen to blood on the dance floor. She seems innocent but could still mess you up like full karate chop on the neck. I love her hair.

Monokuma- hhh ok so I know he’s like not good. But honestly he’s so adorable I’d probably pick him up and cuddle him. He’d probably rip my neck out but that’s ok. *he would explode if you poked him up* ahahah oof. It’d be worth it

Junko junko- wait she looks similar to the other girl that has the same hairdo. She looks like she’s a hardcore headbanger rocker. Overall she seems like a nice person but she’s probably crazy. She seems like an Aquarius. She’s a partier. Either an Aquarius or a Capricorn *SHES ACTUALLY A CAPRICORN OMg*

Twogami- Oof. Umm he looks like someone that I would literally think about killing. Like literally he looks so annoying like those kids that would annoy others. WAIT IS HE THE SAME GUY AS THE OTHER ONE like they look similar but he looks chunkier.

Teruteru- he looks like a chipmunk but like Alvin and the chipmunks probably wouldn’t accept him. He probably cooks nice cause he has a tiny chef hat.

Mahiru- she seems nice like she likes to walk around in nature and take aesthetic photos. Probably likes to dye her hair cause that’s not a natural red. She seems like a nice lady

Peko- umm she looks like a mean girl like also she gives off vibes of innocent like it’s kinda confusing. She looks like she has a weapon. She looks like the kind of person that would play with swords.

Ibuki- she definitely looks like a punk rocker. But she looks like a fun person. She likes to have a good time.

Hiyoko- she kinda looks 12??? But umm she seems like a really innocent person but ifk what’s going on with her hair. It’s better than the armadillo guy but still. She looks like someone you’d call a bean

Mikan- she looks deranged. Like I would say borderline depressed but she’s almost there. She looks like she’s seen some shit. Maybe go to the salon.

Nekomaru- ??????? He looks like wolverine. But he looks like a typical action movie star. Brobably a bad guy but that’s ok. Legit don’t mess with him.

Mechamaru- well now I’m just confused. Well he sure as heck don’t go beep hoop beep boop. He has a higher language than that. He looks like he’d mess u up if you wronged him. *hes the same as the one before* oh yeah they have the same shoulders.

Gundham- !!!!! I love his hamsters. I don’t even care if he’s a psychopath I’d be friends with him. He looks like he’d be one of those people from PETA!!! He cares more about animals that humans. Which is a big mood. lookatthelittleoneonhisshoderomgg

Nagito- um yeah that one idk if it’s a he or she but it looks like she is like idk but she’s mental. She kinda looks confused psychotic, j don’t have a third word. *its a guy* oh ok so that dude looks like that. His hairs crazy like a tornado went through it.

Chiaki- she seems pretty innocent. She looks like a freshman in high school before they’ve seen all the crap you gotta deal with. Yeah she honestly is like the baby of the whole thing. She hasn’t experienced life enough to destroy the earth.

Monomi- this ones pribabyl dangerous too but I’d love him until he kills me. (Muffled rambling about pronouns) would have as a pet or child. Idk if it speaks.

Hajime- so if he just like cuts off that random piece out of his hair he seems like a chill guy minus the penis sticking out of his head. I’d probably date him but like what is up with that hair.

Izuru- another punk rocker probably but honestly he seems like he’s distant from others. He lurks in the back waiting for his turn to do crazy shit. He sees all. Literally Jesus.

Akane- hoe of the class. That’s it. She seems nice though but like I think she needs a new bra and a new shirt. No shade that’s just not how you should be dressing to go to school. That was basically how my sister dressed to go to school.

Fuyu-I don’t like him. He doesn’t seem like a nice person. He seems like that lawyer that everyone hates. It’s just their job to be assholes ya know. Like that kid who’s over privelidged

Soda- wait that’s supposed to be a guy right. He kinda looks like he works on cars but like he seems like a funny quirky just like overall funny guy. Probably a little crazy. Probably an Aries idk. Yeah he seems like he can be crazy but does his job well-ish.

Sonia- I’m conflicted bc she seems like a nice person but she also sends like the kind of person that seems innocent but will blackmail you. Like she knows all your secrets. I like her hair though.