#mx-elliotricker

@mx-elliotricker

“Okay, this conversation is too long. Bye.” Camilla says walking away from the stranger who was trying to speak to her. In their minds, they are probably cursing her out by now, but in reality that was the least of her worries. She never really liked these Christmas mixers in the first place. The only reason why she attended was because a friend of hers was hosting it then decided to invite her and Elliot. Speaking of which…

“Where the hell is she?” The Hispanic woman mumbled to herself hearing the soft jingles on her ugly sweater sound out while scanning the room. Her short frame found it impossible to look over people, so instead she moved them out of the way while walking past them. That was when she entered a room seeing her friend looking relaxed as usual. 

“Ugh, finally! I’ve been looking-” Camilla stopped her tracks when she glanced up to see a little mistletoe hovering above the both of them. Trying her best to contain her blush, she scoffed returning her gaze to her. “…really?”

Her laughter filled the inside of the RV at her lover’s words, the sound mirthful and amused. “Please. You always disappear, Elliot, but you always come back.” Circling around behind the stool that her artist was perched upon, Grace let her fingers play feather light across the back of her shoulders, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper as she leaned down over a tattooed shoulder and brought her lips close to a heavily pierced ear. “You always come back because I have everything here that you want. The drugs.. the booze...” Pausing her words and the rush of heated breath it sent down the side of her neck, Grace let her lips audibly part as she flicked her tongue out, just barely grazing it over the lobe and stealing a nip. “...Me.” 

She knew Elliot was upset, but she didn’t care, she never did, especially now for it was her turn to take back the reigns and show a hint of the hand she held against her. A pale hand sliding up and over the other shoulder, her fingers were light, a teasing ghost of a touch; at least until they reached the long slender throat of her androgynous lover, and then they curled in a tight hold right beneath her chin. Finger and nails curling into the inked skin above a beating pulse, enough to hurt but not to completely cut off her air, a low sound somewhere between and purr and a growl rippled over her lips. 

“You don’t even know when it happened, did you? When I wormed my way in there on the back of the cocaine and alcohol, and got you just as addicted to me as you are to them. It’s why you come back, because you like it when I piss you off, you like it when I welcome you with open arms... and other limbs. You like not knowing if one day I’ll kill you, just because I’m bored or upset.” Loosening her grip just enough that she could circle around to her front without letting go, there was a hint of something behind the icy blue eyes, anger, hurt, insult maybe, but it was veiled behind coldness and set back from the gun that she pressed to the forehead of the other woman. “Oh Elliot... so special... so strong and yet so weak and scared... Do you really want to be free of my web? Do you?” Brushing her finger over the trigger, grip tightening once more, it was for a long tense moment before her hand released it’s grip and slid around to the back of her neck, pulling her into a heated and bruisingly angry kiss, the gun clattering to a landing down the hallway where she’d thrown it. 

Nonsexual acts of IntimacySelect from the following for my muse to respond to…

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap.

“Nice of you to finally make your way here.” She hadn’t reacted when the door had opened, hadn’t even looked up from the joint she was rolling, for she’d known the sound of Elliot’s motorcycle the moment she’d heard it. Besides, the only one with a key to the lock on the gate, was the artist. It had been a few days since she’d last seen her favourite lover, and her mood was sour from her stiffness and inability to get around with ease, the leggy brunette practically naked for clothing was a stress she didn’t care for. Instead she wore just a pair of her most comfortable boy shorts and a simple sports bra. Anything to keep tightness off her still tender torso. “What, need another hit already? Go ahead, you know where it is.”

For the briefest moment before she slipped into darkness, the world was just sounds. Intelligible calls and unfamiliar voices laced through with one suddenly familiar one, and her last thought was that at least she went down fighting. There’d been such little warning, but that’s how all the best went. Taken by surprise and while taking some of them with them. Grace was no different, at least that’s how she felt. 

It was while she was coming back that they’d sprung into action, and almost the moment the padlock dropped open, they were on her. It was one of the largest raider groups that Grace had ever seen, and her first reaction was a deep chested sigh, both out of annoyance, and to release the ball of tension in her chest. Of course. It was seven to one, out on the street, and there was no way she’d win, but if she drew them into the maze of scrape piles, the odds would be evened by the confined space and unstable mountains of junk around them that she knew better than they. The movement was quick, a step through the cracked open gate, closing it behind her and sliding the lock through the hole, but before she could slide it up and closed, the deafening clang of a heavy metal chain against the shaking metal of the gate next to her face had her retreating back quickly. 

She’d been staked out. Had to have been, because they chose one of the times that Elliot wasn’t here, and had caught her returning. The timing was too perfect, and honestly, just a little over dramatic. “Really, gentlemen... I’m so flattered by the pagentry of all of this, I could actually cry.” Speaking as she walked backwards into the scrap maze, she intended to lead them away from their prize. The trailer. Eyes on the tallest and meanest of the bunch as he stepped back for a smaller one to approach from the back, hand sliding just enough through the chainlink, catching the bottom and pushing it up and over so it dropped to the ground. “Fuck.” Moron had to have his shining, scrawny ass moment now. 

send me a ship and i’ll tell you

-who cries when someone dies in a movie

Neither. Though they never really make it that far in a movie. They always end up in bed before movies end. 

-who wears the ugly holiday garb

Elliot. And then she struts around like it’s the hottest outfit around. Much to Grace’s entertainment.

-who pays for the meals

Whoever Grace can con into it. Otherwise they’re masters of the Dine & Dash

-who slams the oven door and who plays the trombone

They’re both door slammers, and their arguments are explosive. The police are usually called by the neighbours. 

-who brings home stray animals

Grace has a soft spot for animals, and is always bringing them home. Elliot doesn’t mind, though, because who hates puppies?

-who leaves the bathroom door open

Grace. But only when she’s bathing or showering. Both to tease and entice her lover. 

-who tells the ‘dad jokes’

Elliot. For someone who’s not a Dad, she’s a pro at trying to make Grace smile with an endless list of bad puns. 

-who wants kids more

Neither. Who wants to be tied down like that? Not them.

-who travels more

Both, and they usually travel together. Where you’d find one, the other is not far behind. 

-who spends more cash

Grace. She likes all the pretty things. She also makes more cash in one night than most people do in a week, so she doesn’t have much worries about how much she spends.

-who buys the things in infomercials

Grace. She likes things that make her life easier. Though Elliot does as well, though she buys the most ridiculous stuff.

-who draws in the dust on their cars

Elliot. She likes to see how out there she can get before Grace starts to wipe them off before leaving. Grace would, but Elliot’s bike is never dusty.

-who starts the snowball fights

Elliot. And it always turns into a full blown snow ball fight, until one or the other is too cold or wet to continue. 

-who throws away the directions to things

Elliot doesn’t even look for the instructions to throw them away, she just ignores them. When they need furniture built, it’s Grace who does it, because otherwise it turns into a fight, or just never gets done. 

-who puts up holiday decor

Grace buys it and makes Elliot hang it up. 

-who is more likely to forget to bathe

Neither. They’re both too meticulous about their appearances for that.

-who gets more obsessed about things

Grace. Once she locks her attention on something, there’s no getting it off. Though that is not for a lack of Elliot trying, at least until Grace bites her head off. 

-who sings in the shower more often

@mx-elliotricker - Though I fuck her all the time already, so no big surprise. 

@aresriddle I actually think he could maybe handle me 

@landon-hightower because the guy is sexy as all hell.

@mouthsxmadexofxknives It’d be the hottest hate sex on the planet, lets be real, here.

annnnnnd

When did I ever say there was anything great about Elliot? If I had to say why I enjoy her more than basically the rest of humanity it would be because she’s hot as fuck, the best of both masculine, and feminine, and she’s actually somehow not as annoying, stupid, gullible, or needy as other people. Period.