#fun fact i color picked the greens for the text from the middle girls underwear in the original pic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gra-sonas · 4 years

Text

Sweatpants Dick

Pairing: Malex, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin, Isobel Evans/Maria DeLuca (implied)

Additional Tags: Isobel and Alex are besties, Buffy Manes is a very good girl

Words: 3.2K | Rating: T | On AO3

"Please, for the love of everyone, woo him with your dick and get back together?”

Or the one where Isobel makes Alex buy a pair of gray sweatpants to woo Michael with his dick.

For

@cosmiceverafter, @i-never-look-away and @saadiestuff ♥♥♥

Cosmopolitan Magazine once suggested

Tell your guy to buy light-colored sweatpants. The silhouette of his boner through thick gray cotton is nothing short of art. You deserve this.

This spoke to me as a prompt and I had to write it. There's a lot of talk about dicks/boners/cocks in here, but nothing too explicit actually happens. Uhm... sorry?

~*~

“Black or blue?”

Alex held up two pairs of sweatpants, one black, one a dark blue.

“If you have to buy one of these atrocious looking pants, buy at least a gray one.”

Alex raised one eyebrow in question.

“They may be atrocious looking, but they’re comfy. I only wear them at home anyway. Why gray though?”

Isobel sighed in faux exasperation.

“Did you never read Cosmo, Cap?”

Alex’s eyebrow climbed a little higher on his forehead.

“I'm friends with Maria and Liz, of course I read Cosmo. When we were teenagers.”

“Well, seems like you learned nothing, honey.”

She changed her posture to a somewhat dramatic pose.

“The silhouette of his boner through thick gray cotton is nothing short of art,” she declaimed.

Alex’s eyes were in severe danger of bugging out of his head. He blinked.

“Say what now?”

“Come on, Alex. Have you never seen a man sporting a boner in gray sweatpants? If so, I’m feeling very sorry for you.”

“Uhm.”

Alex struggled not to blush, but damn, Isobel talking so bluntly about boners was giving him a hard time (not literally, thank god).

“You can’t tell me you were in the Air Force for over a decade and you never saw anyone with a semi or full hard-on in sweatpants?”

“Believe it or not, Isobel, people tend to be very private with their boners around the gay guy. Wouldn’t want to tempt him.”

Isobel looked offended.

“Ugh, these people would’ve been so lucky for you to pay attention to their inferior dicks in the first place.”

She grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants from the table, checked the label and looked over her shoulder at Alex.

“Come on, Cap, this is your size, and I’m ready to commit murder for a coffee. Go get the other bags and meet me at the exit.”

With that Isobel left Alex standing in the middle of the shop and went to pay for the gray sweatpants. Alex sighed. He quickly re-folded the black and blue pants he was still holding and put them neatly back where he’d found them. Then he picked up the bags from their earlier shopping spree and followed Isobel.

When they sat at their usual table at the Crashdown half an hour later, Alex had had enough time to get his composure back.

“So, Evans, what do you know about boners in gray sweatpants?”

Alex smirked when Isobel almost choked on the sip of coffee in her mouth. Alex handed her a napkin. She grabbed it and dabbed at a spill of coffee on her chin.

“I grew up with a brother.”

Alex’s face twisted in disgust.

“Ew, Isobel, please don’t ever give me the mental image of your brother with a boner.”

Now it was Isobel’s turn to smirk.

“Well, I know for a fact that you’re only opposed to the mental image of one of my brothers’ boner.”

Alex hung his head and was ready to just die on the spot.

“I can’t believe that we’re having this conversation at three in the afternoon.”

“What, do you only talk about dicks at night?”

“If you don’t mind, I would prefer not to talk about dicks with you at any time of the day.”

Isobel reached across the table and pinched Alex’s cheek.

“Don’t be a prude, honey. You’re just worried I’m going to mention my brother’s boner again.”

Alex scrunched his face in disgust.

“Could you please stop mentioning Max, and especially his dick?”

Isobel’s smile turned almost diabolical.

“Who says I was talking about Max this time? If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can talk about Michael’s dick.”

“What do I have to do to make you stop talking about dicks in general, and your brothers’ dicks in particular?”

“Wear those gray sweatpants the next time Michael comes over to fix something at the cabin and show off your goods.”

“My dick is also off limits as a talking point.”

Isobel schooled her expression and looked at Alex earnestly.

“Alex, I’ll stop talking about dicks, but please, consider this at least? I know you two have been dancing around each other for a while now, building a friendship and all that. But the pining’s reaching unbearable levels. On both sides. Please, for the love of everyone, woo him with your dick and get back together?”

Alex took a deep, steadying breath.

“I love him, and he loves me. I know that. He knows that. We’re just both afraid we’ll fuck it up again. That’s why we’re so hesitant.”

Isobel took Alex’s hand in hers.

“I know. But you two? You are ready. Have been ready for a while. Woo him with your dick, or just talk to him. You’re not teenagers anymore, neither are you the very broken men you were a year ago. You’ve worked so hard on both yourselves individually, and on your friendship. You won’t fuck it up, I promise.”

Alex nodded slowly.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really feel like wooing him with my dick, but I’ll try to be brave and talk to him next time we see each other.”

“That’s my boy! I’m so proud of you. You’ll make each other so happy.”

Isobel pulled Alex’s hand up to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Go get him, tiger!”

Alex laughed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go and on my drive home I’ll think of a reason to ask him to come over tonight.”

He gave her a stern look.

“And no, I won’t be wearing those sweatpants.”

Isobel pouted.

“You’re no fun, Manes.”

“If you’re so fond of gray sweatpants, why have I never seen you wearing them around Maria?”

Isobel gave him a wink.

“I know you’re gay and probably not familiar with the female physique, but did you skip sex ed? I’m missing a prominent detail in my nether regions to show off in said pants. I’ve invested in some sheer blouses and nice underwear instead. Which seems to do the trick. I’ve seen her check out my cleavage more than once whenever I spent time at the Pony.”

Alex smiled at her warmly.

“Maybe you should also make a move then?”

Isobel gave his hand another squeeze.

“You know what, that’s probably a good idea. Let’s both go home, dress nicely and get what we want.”

They grabbed their bags, put enough cash to cover their coffees and a generous tip on the table, waved goodbye to Arturo and left the Crashdown. When they reached Alex’s car, Isobel pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“Good luck, Cap. Text me later.”

Alex inhaled her perfume and let the flowery smell comfort him. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Good luck to you, too, Iz. I have a feeling you might get lucky tonight.”

He opened the door of his car and placed the shopping bags on the passenger seat before he climbed in, waved at Isobel one final time, and drove off.

The closer he got to his cabin, the more nervous he felt. He knew that Isobel was right. They were ready. As ready as two people could be after everything they’d been through. The thought of having that talk with Michael was still terrifying and made his palms feel sweaty.

Buffy greeted him with an excited ‘woof’ when he opened the door to the cabin. She dropped to the floor and showed off her belly the second the door fell shut behind him, a not so subtle prompt for him to give her belly rubs. He dropped the bags where he stood and kneeled carefully to play and snuggle with his good girl for a while.

When his knees started hurting, she got up and gave him a soft head butt, as if to tell him to take care of himself. Then she waddled off to plop down on her dog bed for a nap. Alex pulled a nearby chair close enough to support himself standing up. He turned around in search of the shopping bags. They were still near the door. One had toppled over, and the pair of gray sweatpants had fallen out.

“I can’t believe Isobel Evans talked me into buying gray sweatpants to show off my dick,” he murmured to himself. What exactly was so special about a hard dick in those? He grabbed the pants and the bags and slowly walked over to his bedroom. He checked on Buffy once more. She’d grabbed her favorite plush toy (a little green alien Michael had given to her; she’d covered him in wet dog kisses in her excitement about the gift) and had fallen asleep curled around it. He smiled, then turned back around and closed the door behind him.

He went over to his bed and took everything he’d bought out of the bags. He laid the items out on the comforter to assess where everything should go in his closet – most prominently the pair of gray sweatpants. On a whim, he took off his boots, wriggled out of his jeans and rolled down his socks and flicked them in the direction of the hamper. Then he reached for the sweatpants and stepped into them. He bent down, adjusted the hem around his prosthetic leg, and slowly pulled them up. They felt nice and were very comfy but there was absolutely nothing special about them. Apart from the color, they were like any other pair of sweatpants he’d ever owned.

He stepped in front of the large mirror near the window and looked at himself. His hair was tousled, the dark red Henley clung to his torso and showed off his lean waist, toned arms and broad shoulders nicely. As a kid, he’d been small and gangly. Even as a teenager who went skateboarding every day, he’d never been overly broad or muscular.

A decade in the Air Force had given him the body of a man, though. A soldier, ready and able to attack and stand his ground in combat. Even after losing his leg, he'd worked hard to keep in shape. He was rigorous about his PT exercises to ensure he was as agile and strong as his prosthetic would allow him.

He looked down at himself in the mirror. At his bare feet. One human, one artificial. The sight no longer made him flinch, and he was grateful. There had been times when he couldn’t stand looking at his feet, a constant reminder of war and his loss.

Finally, he looked at the part of his body his newest piece of clothing was supposed to make look outstanding. Alex frowned. His dick wasn’t exactly on the small side, but there was no outline visible. He sighed.

“She said ‘silhouette of a boner’, didn’t she?”

He grabbed his junk through the thick fabric and gave it a tug. His dick did not react. Of course not, it had no reason to react to a random tug. Alex considered his options for a second. He didn’t look himself in the eyes through the mirror, instead his eyes followed his hands as they slowly pulled down the waistband of the pants, followed by the waistband of his black boxer briefs.

He pulled his dick out, adjusted his balls, and started stroking. It felt weirdly intimate to look at himself masturbating in the mirror. His dick slowly started hardening under his experienced strokes. He wasn’t actually horny, but soon enough his dick had filled out completely and was hard enough to try and see whether Cosmo had been right.

He adjusted his dick in his boxer briefs before he pulled up the sweatpants.

Mhm, not much to see through the folds of the fabric, but what if he bent his cock slightly to the left so it would rest against the curve of his hipbone? He did just that and when he looked in the mirror again, the outline of his hard dick was clearly visible.

“Niiiice,” he said to himself and smirked.

Before he got a chance to consider whether to follow through with what he’d started, he heard a noise coming from the porch. Then Buffy let out a small bark in the living room, and Alex forgot about his boner instantly.

He opened the door of his bedroom and walked to the front door in long strides. He wrenched the door open, Buffy at his heels, when he saw a familiar face under the brim of a black cowboy hat looking at him with wide eyes.

“Shit, Alex, you startled me.”

Alex let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Michael, I didn’t expect you. Neither did I hear your truck. What are you doing here?”

“Isobel called and told me you mentioned a broken porch light when you were at the Crashdown with her. I finished early and thought I’d come over to fix it.”

Michael’s eyes slowly wandered down Alex’s figure to take in the sight of the man he loved. He liked the maroon Henley Alex was wearing a lot. He’d never seen Alex wear those sweatpants before. They were gray and hung low on his hips and... Michael blinked. He looked again, then blushed furiously.

Unless Alex hid some kind of tool (or toy, Michael’s brain provided, completely unhelpful) or a banana in his pants, the outline of Alex’s hard cock was clearly visible underneath the soft looking fabric. Michael gulped.

“Uhm. Sorry, I... I'll just change the light bulb and be out of your hair in a second.”

Alex frowned. Why was Michael acting so weird, and why would he want to leave so fast?

“Thanks, but don’t you want to come in before you leave? There’s beer in the fridge, and I’m sure Buffy would love a thorough belly rub from you.”

Alex tried to think of other incentives to make Michael stay.

“Oh yeah, Buffy. Uhm, I could take her for a walk or something? Give you some privacy?”

Michael’s face was beet red, and he tried desperately not to look at the silhouette of Alex’s dick.

“Privacy? What for?”

Alex didn’t understand.

Michael blushed harder, if that was even possible. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he nodded in the general direction of Alex’s dick.

“To take care of that? Looks like you were in the middle of something when I disturbed you. Poor timing on my end, I’m sorry.”

Alex made a noncommittal noise, then it was his turn to blush.

“Oh my god, no. I mean, it looks like I was in the middle of something, but I only wanted to see if Cosmo was right.”

Michael looked confused.

“Cosmo? Never heard of him. Some new guy you met at the conference last week?”

Michael tried his best to keep any kind of jealousy and judgement out of his voice, but it was hard. Shit, they’d been so close to getting back together recently, and now there was a new guy on the horizon? When Alex let out a breathless laugh, Michael looked up.

“Cosmo as in Cosmopolitan, Michael. The magazine?”

Michael’s face turned into a giant question mark.

Alex sighed.

“This is all your sister’s fault. She bought these sweatpants for me to woo you with my dick.”

“Isobel did what to make you what?”

Alex dropped his head to hide his blushing cheeks. When he heard Michael step closer, he froze. Michael was really close suddenly, and Alex’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest any second.

“You know how much I love your dick. I just don’t quite understand what these pants have to do with any of it?”

Alex looked up.

“The silhouette of his boner through thick gray cotton is nothing short of art,” he repeated what Isobel had told him earlier this afternoon. Then he smirked and looked at Michael, a challenge in his eyes.

“Well, whoever said that, clearly knows what they’re talking about. Not that your dick isn’t always a work of art, but I must admit, it looks particularly mouth-watering through thick gray cotton.”

Alex’s grin almost split his face. Then he flung himself across the short distance between them, right into Michael’s arms. Michael caught him with ease and wrapped him in a tight hug. Michael’s soft curls tickled Alex’s nose when he whispered into his ear.

“I take it the sweatpants wooing worked?”

“Darlin’, you’ve been wooing me with your everything since we were seventeen, and your dick in these pants is a glorious boner... I mean bonus. Any chance I could take a closer look?”

Alex leaned back in Michael’s embrace until he could look him in the eyes.

“I’d love that. You know that this is it, though, right? It’s only going be my dick from here on out.”

Michael looked at Alex earnestly.

“Alex, that’s all I ever wanted. I want you. I want us. I want your dick. Exclusively. Forever.”

Michael took a deep breath, and there were tears glistening in the corner of his eyes.

“I love you, Alex.”

Alex didn’t hesitate and closed the gap between their mouths to kiss Michael long and thorough. He put everything into the kiss. The longing, the hunger, the love for the man in front of him. When he was finished having his fill (for the moment at least), he leant back again to look at Michael. He made sure his hard dick pressed into Michael’s crotch, where it bumped into Michael’s growing hard-on. Alex let out a happy laugh.

“I want that, too, Michael. You. Us. My dick being yours, your dick being mine. I love you so much and I’ll never let you go.”

He undulated his hips suggestively, rubbing his hard dick against Michaels.

“Let’s take this inside, cowboy, I wanna show off my dick in these pants some more.”

He took Michael’s hand and led him inside the cabin. Buffy had returned to her dog bed while they'd been talking, and when they entered the living room, she opened one eye and blinked at them as if to check whether they were okay. She seemed to be satisfied with what she saw, pulled her little alien plushie close, and went back to sleep.

Later that night, Isobel’s phone buzzed on the nightstand to her left. She dropped a kiss to the top of Maria’s head where it was lying on her chest and carefully picked up the phone, eager not to wake her sleeping lover. When she opened Alex’s message, she just about managed to suppress a delighted squeal.

He’d sent her a photo. A pair of gray sweatpants dropped in a heap on the wooden floor of his bedroom, a familiar black cowboy hat sitting on top of it. His message read. “My thanks to Cosmo (and you!) Coffee at the Crashdown tomorrow at 3pm. My treat.”

Isobel smiled, then she took a photo of her and Maria’s hand, lovingly entwined. She sent it to Alex, adding “It’s a (coffee) date, Cap! <3 We have a lot to celebrate.”

#malex #malex fic #rnm fic #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #my fic #posting a fic on feb 29 is like you didn't actually post it #nothing to see here #move along #just some silly snarky fluff #isobel evans #maribel #buffy manes

71 notes · View notes

alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

The Grind- Chapter 8

Warnings: Language. Fluff.

A/N: OHHHH, CHAPTER 8, HOW I LOVE YOU. This is one of my favorite chapters in the entire book, and I only hope you do enjoy it! It’s Colton and Liv, intimately behind closed doors, just how I like them. AND, DRUM ROLL.....You’ll even get a little insight into the mind of our boy Colton Ritter!!!

(GIFS FROM GOOGLE)

I hadn’t attempted to track Colton down once the weigh in concluded. He had hands to shake, and plenty of pictures to pose for. And as for me, there were a few colleagues I needed to speak with amongst the mass of people as well, before stealing away to him upstairs. Kate was on the list, a reporter for one of the local television news stations, who happened to live in the same apartment complex as I did. We weren’t tight pals by any means, but always spoke in passing every morning before work, and there was the occasional invitation to her flat for a drink to unwind. As a matter of fact, it seemed unwinding was precisely what Kate had in mind this particular evening, too. Her whining insistence on sharing a Cosmo in the lounge wouldn’t cease unless I caved. But, I was certain to make it a clear point that I only had time for ONE quick drink, and discreetly sent Colton a text to inform him I may be arriving a little behind schedule.

As promised, Kate let me part after a single drink order and some simple small talk over some perfectly salted mixed nuts. We exchanged predictions on how we thought tomorrow night would go and where she had bought the camel colored satchel bag she was displaying in the seat next to her. Then, out of the sheer goodness of my heart, I even sat quietly listening to the horror story of her latest blind date mishap. Bless that poor girl, she really was a catch. Confident, very intelligent, lightyears ahead of other anchors in the city her age. To most men though, her every quality was one that intimidated their sensitive ego, making it a struggle to find a match who would encourage her success, rather than smother it.

I left her alone in the bar with her sorrows, honestly feeling a bit bad for abandoning her to drown them, then aimlessly wandered to find the elevator. Thankfully, I reach Colton’s floor without any company in the confines of the metal box. Creepy, awkward elevator conversation was #4 on the list of things I hated as much as cherry licorice. I walked down the lengthy hallway lined with plum and green patterned carpet, then patted two light knocks on room 1893, and waited zealously. My toes patted in anticipation, and my lips buzzed a bit from the leftover coating of my stout Cosmopolitan. The door opened surprisingly quick after my tapping by a handsome fellow adorning a pair of light grey boxer shorts.

“Damn, I was really hopin’ you were that pizza I ordered from downstairs.”

I kicked the door open further sending him back to hit the papered wall to the left, and he snuffled from a closed mouth grin.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I snarled. “And come on now, Ritter. You can’t be opening your door looking like that. You’ll have the maids brawling for who gets to bring up your extra towels.” I gestured a hand toward him, alluding to his quite painfully sexy, underwear model-esque appearance.

The tv was muted on ESPN, only a gold desk lamp casting light into the rather large room. A king size bed stationed closest to the wall with the double windows, covers unturned, and curtains drawn. Faint music danced over my ears, something from the classic rock genre. Journey, maybe? Our taste in music had thankfully been another similarity discovered sometime in the days of our courtship. I bent over removing one shoe at a time, to hurl them in the corner. I so loved my beautiful collection of pumps, but my feet could only take small doses. My ankles begged for my past preference of high-top tennis to return.

“So, I thought we’d just hang out in bed. Watch a movie or somethin’? I kinda just wanna relax. Unless you wanna go out? I can get dressed.” His words offered to go out, but his crooked eyebrow & pursed lips said otherwise.

“Staying in is perfect, babe. As long as you promise to share that pizza you’ve got comin’. Black olives?”

“Yep. Jalapeños only on my half.” It was miracle. I had found a man who compromised on the most important thing in my life. Food.

“You know the way to my heart, Colt.” I smoothed tiny circles with my flattened hand over the comforter of the bed, enticing him to join me. Rather than lightly crawling up next to me, he lunged wildly to flop weightlessly in the empty spot.

“I brought ya’ a t-shirt if you wanna change. It’s in my bag by the bathroom, I think. Figured you’d be wearin’ one of those sexy lil’ business suits you’re always prancin’ around in t’ torture me.” He reiterated his remark by grazing the small line of my exposed stomach. “I didn’t want cha’ to be uncomfortable all night.”

“All night? Is that an invitation? Whatever on earth would make you think I’d want to spend the night in this gorgeous hotel room with you, Colton?” I threw a hand to my chest and closed my eyes in a prudish manner.

“ ‘Cause you, Liv Caroline Elliot, just cannot resist me.”

Although he was right, I wasn’t about to give in defeatedly and just admit guilt. He always gave an effort to come off so self-confident, and poised even, like he himself was the holy grail to mankind. Somewhat similar to how Mendez carried himself. But, I was well aware it was all an exterior front for the twisted, emotional mess he was inside. He was like one of those candies with the crunchy, seemingly unbreakable shell that had smooth filling in the middle. By this point I had pretty well pulverized that outer layer, and it really wasn’t as difficult as imagined.

“You’re just so sure about that, aren’t ya’? But I think I could say the same when it comes to you, my overly confident friend.” One finger prodded his flexed peck.

“I think we both know I can’t resist ya’, two-one. And I ain’t a bit scared to say so.” I had sat up ready to climb from the bed and retrieve the t-shirt he mentioned, but was immediately yanked in a near whiplash motion down on top of him. He gave me a look that I wished I could bottle up and carry in my purse every day. It was a look of total admiration, torturous passion, and loving fulfilment. There were no smiles, or laughing from either of us. The room was simply clouded with a haze of love so thick it was nearly visible to the human eye. I grazed my nose to his, not daring to disrupt the conversation our eyes were exchanging, and kissed him with opened lids. It was returned, with his addition of a spirited squeeze to my tail. One thing I had noted about Colton, was he could draw me into the deepest depths of a moment, hold it for delayed second or two, then undoubtedly jerk away from the overwhelming rush of emotion like he had been stung by an angry bee. But I’d wait for him to open the heavy iron gate to that conversation regarding his slightly detached demeanor.

“I love you, Colt.”

“And I love you, gorgeous. Now, go’n get changed. Imma pick a movie for us.”

The path of my outfit left behind me was enough payback for the little winking stunt he pulled earlier at the weigh in.

By the time I appeared from the bathroom, the pizza had been delivered, the covers turned back, a 6-pack on the night stand, and an unbelievably attractive man awaiting me. My makeup washed off and hair knotted into a messy bun, I was pant-less wearing a baggy soft t-shirt that smelled of Colton’s bodywash, and ready to sink into bed with him. I didn’t want tomorrow to come because I was certain there was no way it could measure up to this.

“Okay, so we got The Purge, or one of my personal favorites, the classic Harold & Kumar go to White Castle. You pick.”

“Shouldn’t we watch something like Fight Club, or, I don’t know… Rocky instead? That seems more your style.” I suggested raising one knee on the bed to boost myself up into the chill of the sheets. I loved the way his tanned, furry legs looked bold against the bleached white of the bedsheets.

“Although Rocky does top my movie list any day of the week, I can watch things that don’t involve fist to face violence, you punk. I ain’t a total adrenaline whore. I’ll have you know that I even saw The Notebook. Twice.” He informed me very matter of factly.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here & say that date ended very well for you.” My mouth mimicked the act of vomit thinking about the lines he cooed into the ears of that poor girl causing her to all but leap into bed with him.

“Is somebody jealous? C’mon now, babe. Past is the past.”

There had only been one suitor he had been semi-serious with previously. Her name was Amber, they dated for 6 months, and he caught her in the locker room at Mac’s in a quite compromising position with his Physical Therapist. That was really all the details he shared, & it was definitely all I needed to hear. However, I knew his lack of romantic relationships was plenty compensated by his plethora of casual sex partners. The fact that he was experienced was extremely clear to me after that night in the ring at the gym. He worked fervently taking metal notes of what dips in my skin he could kiss that caused a gentle hum of pleasure, and which ones caused an almost violent writhing. 14 partners in his twenty-six years, a number I was far from comfortable with, but it wasn’t about to send me running scared either.

“Your past just seems to be a lot more.. eventful than mine.” I admitted placing the sweating beer bottle between my greasy lips, and dropped my head in sheepish discomfort.

“First of all, you know damn well that don’t mean shit to me. You gotta think more of me than that, Livvy. ‘N second, that’s just all the more fun I get to have bein’ your little teacher, huh?” Both brows raised and fell in unison at his perverse inuendo.

“Get over yourself, PUH-LEASE.”

By this very crude point in the conversation, he’d eaten his entire hearty side of the pizza in addition to two slices of my black olive half, and I was 3 beers deep. The chatting began rolling so immensely, the tv remained off, and instead we’d left his iPod to shuffle at random through his vast array of musical tastes. We prodded question upon question about the other, shoveling for every fiber of detail we could harvest. I was stunned in utter disbelief that he had never even been out of the country, and he seemed nearly repulsed in the discovery that I still wasn’t a Steelers fan despite living in The Burgh for coming up on three years. At some point I can’t recall, he stepped from the bed to open the drawn curtains, exposing the twinkling illuminations of the still very lively city even at the hour approaching 1 a.m.

He observed the world below him like he had created this kingdom himself. Colton was Pittsburgh through and through down to the marrow, and I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the world. The grouping of blue moonlight and changing street lights coated him in a glow almost angelic. He was laid smooth on his back, a bended arm beneath is pillow, and I laid in sideways position with my head situated across the rippling muscles of his inked abdomen, his fingers twirled lazily around an escaped hair from my updo. With passing minutes his words slowly developed a raspy, almost thorny tenor and his answering and asking of questions now more dawdled. He was like a tenacious child battling the certain feeling of sleep that enraptured him, afraid he may miss a revelation of crucial importance if he dozed off.

“Baby, I know I haven’t told you, but I want ya’ to know your article is really, really excellent. And I’m damn proud a’ ya’.“

I was confused at the compliment since he hadn’t read as much as one sentence from my piece yet. “Colt, it’s not even done yet. And how would you know since you’ve yet to see it, ya’ goof.”

“It’s your work, Liv. You’re a natural, kinda like me with fighting, ya’ know? It’s what we do best. And besides, you’re always sayin’ how proud you are of me, so I want ya’ to know someone feels that way about you, too. You got no idea how amazing you really are, do ya’ girl?”

His compliments nearly made tears spill from my welling eyes. This simple, yet so utterly perplexing man loved me to his core. I could feel it in his words right that second, and in the way his scarred knuckles brushed my cheek sending a shockwave of serenity to my soul. I had never fallen so deeply for someone in such a way, much less in just a few months’ time, and I was honestly terrified at every feeling I harbored for him. I shifted to rest my palms on his chest making eye contact with his flecked eyes.

“Why are you always so good to me, huh? Better be careful, babe.. People may think you’re going soft.” I warned, raising my brows to appear concerned.

“Oh, but you’ll be able to assure them that Colton Ritter is far, farrrrr from soft, baby…” One swift, lascivious movement now rendered me pinned at my sides by both wrists under two strong, veined hands. Although the act seemed to be hinting toward a much more lustful direction, he simply touched his lips to the corner of my slightly gaped mouth with a single extended kiss, lilting a melodious “I love you.”

Colton

She dozed off an hour or so before I had. The barely noticeable, gentle buzzing of her snoring mouth gave her away. The cotton-like thickness of my dry tongue screamed for a drink shortly after, so I had to scoot her head from crease of my arm, careful not to pull on the hair fluffed on top of her head. She had wallowed trying to get comfortable, I’m sure the damn hardness of my bicep wasn’t the best replacement for a pillow, and tangled strands of her blonde hair were brushing over her lashes. I often wished maybe I could give the gym a little break, and soften up a bit. Just so she’d be able to sleep tucked into my chest at night without feeling like she’d get a black eye if I moved the wrong way.

My high-school wresting t-shirt she slept in climbed up her belly, exposing more of the clean shade of white boy-shorts she wore underneath, and a teasing curve of the underside of her breast. I had seen my fair share of naked women in life, more beyond Liv’s level of comfort. But her? Damn it… She wasn’t Playboy, plastic lipped, and chiseled from head to toe like most empty fuckers like me would look for. Liv’s beauty was more palatable, and desirable to the real man. Beauty that maybe most people would miss out on. But me? She entranced me the minute she stabbed me with those emerald green eyes.

Her buttery soft skin, her blonde hair usually wild like the winds of Chicago. Not the kitchen sink blonde like you’d see down at the infested strip clubs downtown either. No, this was the sunshine yellow she was born with. Sandy, smooth blonde intertwined with some strands of caramel like the inside of a chewy candy bar..

Her perfect, pink, creamy buds painted rosy circles on the inside of the thin cotton of her shirt, and I thought very much that she might’ve been the sexiest thing I had ever seen. The screaming hard on pinned under my boxers said so. And despite the trickle of drool out the side of her slumbering mouth, and the smearing black of yesterday’s makeup stained under her eyes, I couldn’t look away. As if I’d even want to. And hell, if I wasn’t in love with this Indiana girl in every sense of the word.

Liv

Despite my desperate prayers for time to halt for just one night, it insisted on passing into the morning. I had slid from the bed just before dawn to close the dark curtains of the room, wanting to make sure he got undisturbed, restful sleep for what this day was going to require from him. And selfishly, it as also an attempt to keep our room as black as the unexplored ocean, foolishly thinking maybe the rising sun would just pass us by if I didn’t allow its light in. We had eventually forced ourselves to sleep the night before, after several attempts to kiss goodnight. One kiss, lead to three more, which lead to fifteen more, each holding more and more desire to carry those kisses elsewhere over the span of the other persons body. But, painfully so, I squandered it insisting he better get some shut eye.

Now, the digital clock on the nightstand closest to his side of the bed flashed 5:49 a.m., and I expected his internal clock to start stirring him very soon. From the sliver of dawn intruding through the minimal crack of the patterned drapes, I watched him sleep. Admired would be a better word. His lids smoothly sealed, no crinkles of struggle about them, and his mouth gently puckered. I made mental note of his naturally suntanned, unscathed face in the state it was now, knowing full well tonight would render it not so. There were no bruises, no splits in his lips, no blackened eyes. He was the nearest thing to physical perfection I had ever laid eyes on. I hoped he couldn’t sense my focused staring.

Suddenly, I felt a growing itch in my nose, a building sneeze approaching. Trying at all costs to avoid waking his lifeless form, I pinched my nostrils shut in effort to trap the noise from escaping. However, the harsh flinch my body released sent a jolt over the entire mattress. Colt inhaled a loud, groggy breath and stretched his hand to grasp for my side of the bed.

“Hey, you,” he said rubbing the rest from his waking eyes.

The hearty drift of his accent from the hours of 4 to 9 a.m. could very near send me straight into orgasm.

“Sorry, babe. I tried not to wake you.”

He rolled over to face me dragging his arm around my waist to pull me into his chest, I smiled and draped a bare leg over his warm body.

“I ain’t got no problem at all gettin’ woken up by the likes a’ you, baby.” He crowded me with a drowsy kiss, his tongue curling slightly under my top lip. I could feel him rattle with laughter at the sensual pant he sucked out of me.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sir. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby with a full belly. You?”

I kicked back the covers, breaking the wall of warmth it had closed around us and scooted to raise on the edge of the bed.

“Great. I’m thinking of getting one of these mattresses for my place. It may take up every inch of my entire bedroom, but it’d be well worth it.”

“Hey hey hey, where you think you’re going, little lady?!” Colton was propped on both arms, scowling at me under a lined forehead. “You ain’t even gonna have breakfast with a man? I feel so cheap.”

Always so witty, this one. “I just assumed you had a lot on your agenda today, Colt. I don’t want to hover.”

I was puzzled constantly over when to stick around, and when to leave him be. Appear as committed, but not obsessed. Interested but not overbearing. I had never been with an older man before, were the rules different? Sure, he was only 26 to my almost 23, but nonetheless older. Did the “hard to get rule” expire with men in their late-twenties?

“Livvy, stop worryin’, baby. Mornings before a fight are actually pretty laid back. I’ll spend most of the day with my headphones in my ears, prolly take a dip in the jacuzzi,” he was rolling his eyes, motioning his hands back and forth to explain the boring schedule of his day. “Then, meet the guys in Mac’s room to talk things out before we head to the venue. So, at least lemme order us some room service so I can enjoy breakfast with my girl, ight? Unless you got somethin’ else I could eat for breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know…”

Damn this pig. This sexy, magnificently tantalizing pig.

I hurled the hotel menu on the desk speedily toward him, “Cold shower, Ritter. Cold shower.”

If he wanted breakfast in bed with me, who I was I to deny? Rolling my puffy morning eyes at him, I crept back into bed.

“Waffles, please! And bacon. Oh! Fruit on the side, too. And coffee. Don’t forget coffee.”

Like he said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?

The man was impressed with my appetite for food, among other things as well. “Yes, ma’am!” he obliged. “Anythin’ else for the princess?”

“Maybe some whipped cream? For the waffles, of course….”

I was even surprised at myself for the boldness he brought out in me. Sex was a very.. taboo thing back home. Matter of fact, I never even got “the talk” from my parents, and instead was left to the uneducated murmurs of my fellow sheltered classmates. But with Colton, I felt audacious when it came to the topic. Mind you, the things he said most of the time could sent me blushing under the table, but I was growing more comfortable with his dirty remarks and was even starting to throw in my own ornery overtone on occasion.

“Oh shit. You a damn tease, Liv Elliott. A dirty, dirty tease.”

Our indulgent spread of breakfast variety was carted to the door in a very prompt fashion. I obviously indulged more than he, devouring two Belgian waffles, 3 strips of the crispiest peppered bacon I’d ever had the pleasure of eating, a grapefruit, and two cups of coffee. He enlightened me that he could’ve eaten every morsel in front of him, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to cram all the carbs and fat into his stomach, in case it made him feel sluggish. So, regretfully it was egg whites, two slices of dry wheat toast, and a protein shake for him. I did entice him to take just one bite of my syrup sopped waffle though.

“Sheesh, I’m gonna need a solid nap later to recover from that overload.” I crashed backwards onto the feather pillow behind me, crossing my hands over the settling food baby in my stomach.

“Hey, do me a favor will ya’? Wear that sexy fuckin’ leather jacket o’ yours I like so much tonight? I know I won’t see ya’ before the fight, but I want you to wear it out to celebrate after. My little badass, front-page writer out on the town.” He was kissing my individual fingertips one at a time.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out then.” My gut bubbled with hope that tonight would bring to pass every detail he had said. Him, the newly crowned Middleweight Champ on my arm, and me, the newest front-page writer for the Pitt Pilot. Could life be that perfect for us?

“Course. A man with a plan.” I admired how he trampled every aspect of life with blinding confidence, and I wished he could somehow hypnotize me to do the same. “As much as I hate to leave good company, babe, I should get home. Let you get all angry and pouty and what not.” I sighed into a near pout, sincerely wishing I could spend the entire day as a part of his prep team.

“You’re probably right, baby doll. I can’t believe Mac ain’t been here beatin’ my door down yet.”

I was gathering my day-old clothes to redress, and Colt rose to begin lightly packing his gym bag. He threw in an unfolded change of shorts, his red headphones, then I saw him pick up the gloves I’d gifted him.

“C’mere, two-one..” I zipped my khakis up and lifted my hair out from under the neck of my shirt, then obliged to his request. He held one glove in each hand and squared them even to my chin.

“Kiss ‘em for luck?”

My heart hiccupped, and I topped his hands with mine and dipped my puckered lips to the padded mitts with an audible “mwah.”

“That’s it. The magic touch! The final nail in that jackoff Mendez’s coffin. A kiss of luck from my girl. Now, got one more kiss on that pretty little mouth for these?” he begged, one finger pointing to his own sinful lips.

I closed in on him with fierce eye contact. “I think I may have just one little measly kiss left in here somewhere for you, champ.”

My mouth was so close to his that the words nearly vibrated off of his parting lips, and I gently cupped his dimpled cheek. It was a lethal concoction made of salaciousness and loving romance that was slowly poisoning my entire body with bliss. Colton’s hand swept down the side of my head, combing through the tangled hair he had gathered it into his fist at the back of my neck. I was locked to him and I never knew being captured could feel so, so good. My tongue covered almost every surface in his mouth, mapping it out. He withdrew and I could feel his lips spreading upward into a smile.

“Wow. I think I may need to drown myself in an ice bath now. A cold shower ain’t gonna wipe that one outta my mind.”

I was pleased that I had to same affect on him, and his did on me.

“Good luck tonight. You don’t need it. You’ve got this. Step into that cage ready to battle. Clear eyes, okay? I love you, Colt.”

“Clear eyes. I got it, baby. And I love you too, Elliott. More than you fuckin’ know.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfic #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #tomhardy x ofc #thegrind

28 notes · View notes

the-most-beautiful-broom · 6 years

Text

100 questions

it’s long so it’s under the cut, but man was this fun. thanks for the tag @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold ♥ i’ll tag my loves (if you want to haha this is a lot) @dylanobrienisbatman @blueshirtbell @granger--danger @nightbleeder

1. What is your nickname? lol I have so many. Linds is the most common on here though.

2. How old are you? 23

3. What is your birth month? october

4. What is your zodiac sign? libra, but it’s only like 60% accurate imo (I’m not fragile, or a flirt? ya girl can be charismatic, but I don’t think that’s the same?)

5. What is your favorite color? green

6. What’s your lucky number? when I was in high school/sports, I picked 13 for my number because everyone was like oooo it’s unlucky and I was like cool, guess I’ll win while wearing an unlucky number then (and that’s today’s slytherin mood)

7. Do you have any pets? not in the city with me :(

8. Where are you from? california

9. How tall are you? 5’ 9"

10. What shoe size are you? 10

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? more than I should, probs

12. Are you random? oh goodness no. I believe in patterns and I’m pretty dang predictable.

13. Last person you texted? my sister

14. Are you psychic in any way? lol no

15. Last TV show watched? queer eye again

16. Favorite movie? IMPOSSIBLE <--stealing Kath’s answer on this one

17. Favorite show from your childhood? sooooo we didn’t have a tv haha my mom really really wanted her daughters to be well read

18. Do you want children? I want to foster!

19. Do you want a church wedding? I’m not sure? i’d want everyone to be comfortable and they might not be in a church…I do know that I want a brunch wedding though, bc dancing isn’t my thing and breakfast food is

20. What is your religion? I’m Christian! Seventh-day Adventist is the specific denomination, but nobody ever really knows what to do with that haha

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? not for me/like I’m sick, but for other people, yeah, too much

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Lol not at all. I’ve gotten pulled over four times, but never ticketed though.

23. How is life? better than I deserve

24. Baths or showers? showers

25. What color socks are you wearing? i’m wearing heels for work, so no socks

26. Have you ever been famous? goodness no, whatever for?

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? I think I would, to get to have that platform to make a change and give other people a voice would be awesome

28. What type of music do you like? something with words that mean something, or a melody that surprises you. I’m so weak for key changes though…I’ve always said that my perfect music is driving music: I can belt it alone on a highway at 3am, or laugh over it with friends in the afternoon.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? nope

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? two

31. What position do you usually sleep in? on my right side, with my hands under my pillow

32. How big is your house? it’s a nyc apartment, fam, it’s the size of a broom closet. it’s cozy though, and I love it

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? I’m so bad at eating breakfast…if I do get something, it’s at the bagel place across the street from my office

34. Have you ever left the country? ages ago

35. Have you ever tried archery? on retreats/for school; I wanted to be like robin hood

36. Do you like anyone? I might have a bit of a crush at the moment and it is stressing me out

37. Favorite swear word? so I literally never swear irl, and the first time I swore online was when I was writing my stranger things fic—it’s literally impossible to write dustin and steve and have them not cuss?? ummm I don’t know, they all have their purposes, but I think fuck is just next level emphatic. it’s crazy that it’s just a word, but it conveys so much when you use it

38. When do you fall asleep? if/when I establish a normal sleeping schedule, I’ll let you know

39. Do you have any scars? in the middle of one of my eyebrows, from when I cracked my head open as a kid, which is why I always fill my eyebrows in. also acne scars, which I’m working on not caring about.

40. Sexual orientation? straight

41. Are you a good liar? yes

42. What languages would you like to learn? Literally all of them, so many. I’d love to learn Tagalog so I could have that connection with my mom’s side of the family, and then Spanish is just so beautiful and I really should’ve kept up with it after high school. French and German and Italian would be nice too, and then maybe an ancient language or three?

43. Top 10 songs? REFUSING TO ANSWER THIS <--again, stealing kath’s answer. y’all know how much music I listen to and cry over, so you know I can’t do this

44. Do you like your country? yes but not my leadership. I love the people of this country and I hate that the voices of the few are the ones that are loudest and that are yelling and that are deciding. the people of my country aren’t being represented or heard or protected and it breaks my heart.

45. Do you have friends from the web? I do! from this blog and I ran a fashion blog for a while, so from insta too

46. What is your personality type? MBTI: estj, enneagram: 2w3.

47. Hogwarts House? slytherin (as if anyone couldn’t tell)

48. Can you curl your tongue? no

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to? emma woodhouse (I wish I could say lizzie bennet, but it’s got to be emma)

50. Left or right handed? right

51. Are you scared of spiders? not really? my sister is, so I always had to kill them

52. Favorite food? bread

53. Favorite foreign food? mexican (one of the perks of growing up near the border)

54. Are you a clean or messy person? I’m an orderly person…but sometimes that manifests itself in organized chaos BUT I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING IS OKAY

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? call out my coworkers and not be written off as emotional/sensitive

56. What color underwear? black

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? most days like 20 minutes? from horizontal in bed to out the door...but if i have to do my hair, tap another 3 hours on that, because it has to air dry

58. Do you have much of an ego? so this is complicated because i have high confidence in my capabilities and performance, but struggle with my worth and importance independent of those

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? I don’t really care for lollipops, they just make me want to brush my teeth

60. Do you talk to yourself? yep

61. Do you sing to yourself? also yep

62. Are you a good singer? oh it’s so relative, fam. I can harmonize pretty well, so I’m a good backup singer

63. Biggest Fears? insignificance

64. Are you a gossip? not really. I hate complaining, and I really hate when other people complain; i’m just like okay so what did you do about it?

65. Are you a grammar nazi? if someone knows better, in a context when they should know better, then yes. so like, in a paper, for a presentation, yeah. people ask for help bc I’m good at what I do. but also it’s such a construct that we judge people off of, so I work on not doing that outside of a professional/scholarly context? also I’m a big believer in knowing the rules and breaking them to make a point (see: all my lower case answers, run on sentences, etc.)

66. Do you have long or short hair? I pixie-d my hair back in august and regret it constantly lol. it had to be done though

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? i mean, probably? I’ve been to most of them

68. Favorite school subject? always english

69. Extrovert or Introvert? literally the most extroverted extrovert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? nope

71. What makes you nervous? when I see kids wandering and their parents not noticing

72. Are you scared of the dark? no

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? if we’re alone and I can help them, sure. I despise when people publicly reprimand someone for an unintentional error; it’s just so inconsiderate

74. Are you ticklish? I find people’s obsession with tickling so weird lol

75. Have you ever started a rumor? no

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? …did we not already do this one?

77. Have you ever drank underage? lol fam I don’t drink at all

78. Have you ever done drugs? no

79. What do you fantasize about? paying off all my student debt, having an apartment in all my favorite cities, being able to travel. being an English professor. sometimes growing old with someone; most of the times being a mentor to younger women/getting to be someone i didn’t have

80. How many piercings do you have? none

81. Can you roll your R’s? yeah

82. How fast can you type? not very, which is funny because I work in IT, but I don’t type with my pinkies so that’s a mess

83. How fast can you run? lol I don’t run

84. What color is your hair? brown

85. What color are your eyes? hazel (green + brown)

86. What are you allergic to? mold and one very specific type of grass

87. Do you keep a journal? no

88. Are you depressed about anything? I disagree with how this question is worded but okay. ummm the fact that all my money goes to student loans and rent? misogyny in the workplace? hypocrisy in my government? the lack of love and empathy expressed by people who profess to be believers in love and empathy? that’s a good start

89. Do you like your age? it’s where I’m at, either way

90. What makes you angry? willful ignorance

91. Do you like your own name? I do

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? no

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? not to be a cliché, but all children are gifts? Like I don’t want to physically bear children, but if they’re there, they deserve love (hence the foster thing-- there are SO many kids in a broken system that need security and someone to care for them, and nobody helps them and that just shouldn’t be)

94. What talents do you have? public speaking and writing. I have a passion for making people feel welcomed and known and loved, so I hope that too

95. Sun or moon? sunshine; I’ll always be a SoCal girl at heart

96. How did you get your name? my parent’s loved the meaning

97. Are you religious? I am, yeah. it’s been a journey—other people believing blindy makes me so mad, as well as people who never question their faith or grow in it, or act in a way that shows they don’t actually believe what they say they do—but yeah, my faith is hugely important to me.

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? I have not, although the farther away I get from some things, the more I think I ought to

99. Color of your bedspread? white with gray tassels

100. Color of your room? white walls and an exposed brick wall

#cest moi #whew those got real haha #anyways here's everything you never wanted to know about me

5 notes · View notes

chaos-weekly · 3 years

Text

one rotten apple or an ever changing path

Nollie was pretty sure getting your first tattoo was supposed to be fun. She was also sure that introducing your brother to your boyfriend was supposed to be at least bearable. And both of those things were; it was just the aftermath that was unbearable.

Parker had liked London much more than she had thought he would. He was the more judgemental of her brothers, especially when it came to boys she dated, but he had hit it off with her boyfriend immediately, so much so that Nollie had stayed almost silent while London tattooed the tiny “F” on her hip, right where it could be covered by even her tiniest underwear or swimsuits. Normally Parker would have been a little uncomfortable by his sister’s more exposed lower body, but his conversation with London seemed to distract him. It was perfect: the tattoo, the experience, her brother with London.

Nollie should have known it was too good to be true.

London had dragged Parker into his office to show him his portfolio (Parker had quite a few tattoos himself as wanted to see London’s work. His previous artist had moved from Wall Street where Parker worked off to Middle of Nowhere, Georgia. He was considering getting another while he was in town), so Nollie had occupied herself by talking to Winter up front. She’d grown fond of the girl in her frequent visits, and with her practically being London’s sister, Nollie had really valued their positive relationship.

“You know, I’m really glad this worked out,” Winter was saying. The two had been laughing at the blossoming bromance in the backroom. “I liked you from the start, I was just nervous London would rush things.”

Nollie raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Do tell,” she said, leaning on the counter Winter was behind. The other girl shrugged.

“I was nervous that he was going to force you into having sex. He talked a couple times about how he’d heard Ainsley saying that it was a while since you’d had sex, and that someone as hot as you probably had pent up horniness that was going to result in months of good sex. And I told him not to force you to do anything you didn’t want to or weren’t ready for, but he said not to worry-- he was just going to do everything he could to convince you that he could end your hibernation with him as soon as possible.”

Nollie’s mind was reeling. London had started hanging out with her because he wanted to have sex with her? Half of her said it was ridiculous, that he genuinely cared about her and wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. But the other half reminded her of Kendall. That was years of time together when he stayed with her for sex and publicity. It didn’t seem too far in left field for him to do it again.

“That’s kind of f-ked up, isn’t it,” Winter whispered, probably just now realizing it herself. Nollie swallowed, her eyes meeting Winter’s.

But she snapped out of it as soon as she heard two familiar laughs rejoining them. She put on a fake smile, dodged London’s kiss to her lips and directed him to her cheek, and she and Parker slipped out without her having to say too much besides a: “I’ll see you Wednesday night.”

///

Nollie went to London’s the next morning to return the portfolio he’d let Parker borrow. Her brother had flown back to New York City that evening and couldn’t return it himself, so she’d gone at a strategic time when she was sure her boyfriend would be at work and before she saw Bishop that afternoon for a shoot in one of the houses Langston had recently completed. This would hopefully give her enough time to process and pull her things from his drawer, just in case. She also hadn’t really been replying to his texts. She was nothing if not emotionally bubble wrapped.

Nollie unlocked London’s apartment and almost turned around and left when she saw a man sitting on the couch with his back to her. Who was that? But when the man turned around, neon green beanie and all, her mouth formed a little “o.”

“Paris?” she guessed, stepping further into the apartment and letting the door close behind her. The man’s face lit up, and he sprung out of his chair to wrap Nollie in the biggest bear hug she’d ever received.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, pulling away to look her over. “My brother keeps talking about you, and you sure live up to the da-n hype.” He winked, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Paris was identical to London, but shorter (just a few inches taller than the already tall Nollie) and much skinnier. His arms were just as heavily tattooed, had the style of a neon grunge band from the 90s, and reeked of spray paint and weed. He reminded her of the class clown in a coming of age movie, and Nollie had a feeling she wasn’t too far off with that assumption.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, grinning. “It’s nice to meet you. London’s said so much about you.”

“Good things?” Paris asked, not hopeful at all and sighing at Nollie’s lack of response. “God, I know I’m a royal f-ck up and he’s not proud of me, but he really doesn’t have to tell everyone. Especially not beautiful women.” He collapsed back into the chair he’d been in before.

“I’m pretty sure London’s proud of you, Paris,” Nollie said, moving towards London’s room. “He talks about your art and growing up with you and how close you two are now.”

“A lot?” Paris asked. Nollie shook her head.

“But that doesn’t mean he’s not.”

“London’s kinda the bragging type, Nollie. I know you’ve noticed.” She grimaced. Yeah, PDA was London’s strong suit. It made her stomach churn. He was using her.

“I’ll let you do what you came here for,” he said, waving her off and pulling out his phone. So she did. Nollie slipped into London’s room, dropped his portfolio on his bed, and cleaned every remnant of herself out of his room. When she came out, Paris had switched to an iPad and was sketching out what Nollie could only guess was a commission for someone. He saw her and patted the arm of the chair. And Nollie sat down. Just because things were weird with London didn’t mean they had to be with his brother. Without her asking, he explained what he had been commissioned to do and showed her all of the sketches and inspiration pictures of color palettes and the list of supplies he was making. Paris was what he called a reformed street artist. Now he mostly only spray painted what he was paid to. But Nollie was able to maintain a conversation by using art terms and the little knowledge she’d picked up from London, Langston, Ainsley, and Bishop-- each artists in their own way. He was impressed. He let Nollie watch as he continued to work, something he said he let very few people do, and let her draw a little something that he said was so unlike anything he’d do or come up with that he had to leave it in the final piece.

“You know, you’re just as cool as London said you were,” Paris said, grinning up at her.

“And you’re way cooler than he said you were,” Nollie replied.

“When he called me and said you two had finally hooked up, I was so relieved. Sure, he talked a lot about how much he liked you, but I remember first messaging him about how he wanted to f-k you from the minute he saw you and was one hundred percent going to make it happen.”

Nollie swallowed, the air suddenly becoming more serious. She looked away from a now frowning Paris.

“Hey, you know he wasn’t using you, right? You’re not Kendall. He really likes you,” he said, clearly trying to put a bandage on a broken bone.

“I know,” Nollie said, standing up. “I really do, Paris. It’s just not as easy for me to think about sex and relationships as it seems to be for everyone else.”

Paris seemed to buy that.

“I get it. I’m kind of the same way. But hey, I’m glad you feel comfortable around London.”

“Thanks, Paris.” She smiled weakly. “I’ve got to run to a shoot, but it was nice to meet you.”

“You’re like the big sister I wish I had growing up,” Paris admitted shyly. And her smile turned real.

He was like the little brother she’d lost. Unfortunately, she might lose Paris soon, too.

///

She wasn’t focusing on the shoot with Bishop, so much so that he’d called for a timeout in the most frustrated voice she’d ever heard him use.

“What’s up with you today, Nollie?” he asked, pulling her aside. He was annoyed, and now he had her eyes watering. “Oh gosh, Nollie, what’s wrong?” Bishop wrapped an arm around her shoulder, but Nollie pushed it off, dabbing her eyes before she could ruin her makeup.

“Did you know?”

“Did I know what?”

And Nollie told him everything, sparring him no detail. Her conversation with Winter, her meeting Paris. She shared her feelings, but Bishop knew about the whole Kendall situation, so she didn’t have to go too in depth.

“It’s like he doesn’t value my feelings about sex at all, Bish,” Nollie finished. “Why the h-ll would you start a relationship with someone just to f-k them?”

“To play Devil’s advocate,” Bishop said, pausing to allow Nollie to give him the go-ahead. She nodded.

“To play Devil’s advocate, he clearly really likes you now. I’d say he’s falling in love with you. And when we talked before and I said that he was falling in love with you, I meant it. Sure, London’s got a good poker face, but those were real feelings. It’s hard to make those up.”

“That’s what makes this hard.” Nollie groaned, leaning against the wall. “I’m falling in love with him, too. And I know that if he tells me he loves me, I’m going to get all mushy. So I need to go in with a decision already made.”

Bishop nodded, agreeing. This was really like when she’d asked him to help her break up with Langston all over again.

“So, what are your options?”

“Stay with him and stand on the fact that the path people are on can change halfway through.”

“And?”

“Break up with him and stand on the fact that one rotten apple spoils the whole barrel.”

“Both of those are true, Nollie.”

“I know.”

“So how are you going to decide?”

“I guess I’m just going to have to figure out what I feel. Maybe it’s time to go back to journaling.”

“Maybe,” Bishop said, giving her a hug. “Well, just let me know what you decide. I’m here for you, Nols.”

“Thanks, Bishop,” Nollie said, smiling weakly. “Let’s get back to the shoot so I can get home.”

She was going to see London in a few short days, and she needed to have her decision ready.

#chaos weekly #rising from the ashes

0 notes