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mpxvalentina · 4 years

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Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms Part 1/?

“If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine - it’s lethal.”

Here stands Valentina Ruiz-Kim and this is the story of the time her life got turned upside down... and how she shouldn’t have dealt with it...

TW: Violence, Drug Use, Underage Drinking, Depression, Emotional Abuse, Degrading Language

It was a normal, summer afternoon in San Diego, California. Valentina had spent the morning at the beach with some friends from school and was excited to spend the rest of her afternoon shopping with her older sisters for an upcoming event that her parents were hosting at the country club not far from their home. Her hair was cut into a choppy, layered, ginger bob. Yet another experiment with dyes and sheers in her bathroom at three o’clock in the morning. Her mother was livid, it had been almost five years since Valentina had started experimenting with hair colors and styles and her mother continued to disapprove. Her mother treated it as if their reputation was chipped away at more and more every time Valentina emerged from her bathroom with a new set of locks on her head. Constantly nagging her to just wear a wig if she wanted blonde hair that badly, or to pin it up if she wanted it short - anything to keep her from ruining her precious raven black hair.

Her sisters could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes, all three of them were perfect angels compared to Val. Her grades were never good enough, she never spoke eloquently enough, she never stood tall enough, she never applied herself enough, she never worked hard enough. She was never enough. A black sheep herded in among beautiful, smart, talented sisters. Valentina was gorgeous, she knew that - she used it to her advantage often. Tricking naive upper-classmen into doing her homework for nothing more than a date or even just a kiss. She partied a lot. It was known all around their family’s social circles that if Val wasn’t invited to some uptight event she was definitely invited to all the fraternity and sorority parties. Often you could find her drunk or high, sitting on the lap of an older college boy, whispering in his ear promises she never intended to keep. She was wanted by all the sleazebags of their upper-class world but, she rarely ever gave in to their desires. Always simply using them for their money and status, despite having her own.

This type of social reputation only caused her mother more disappointment, her father paid no mind - always too busy running his company to even bother checking in on his daughters. Her sisters didn’t care, they knew the real Valentina, not the persona she put on around “friends” or at parties. They knew Val, the bubbly geek who could beat anyone’s ass at Mario Kart, the silly goofball that loved to ruin her bathroom at two o’clock in the morning changing her hair color, and the carefree, summer-loving surfer girl that would rather spend every hot summer day in the ocean rather than at another company event like the one coming up. She and her sisters found the perfect dresses for the evening’s boring and bland company event - the context of which she had none. However, Valentina had been looking for a good reason to get dressed up and what better way to spend a fabulous day than getting dressed up and flirting with her father’s junior partners. Besides, her father always had an open bar at these events - that was good enough for her and her sisters.

Her oldest sister was set to inherit the company so she took these events very seriously, unlike Val who was just ready to make the night less boring than it was most likely going to be. She was dressed in a fitted black dress that hit just below her knees, with one slit that went about mid-thigh, and if that wasn’t enough the strapless deep V neck showed off her perfectly tanned cleavage. Her hair and makeup were perfect as always, her skills honed at a young age she even did her sister’s hair and makeup for the event. Well, except for her oldest sister who thought the style of makeup and hair Valentina offered wasn’t “professional enough” in her opinion. As per usual, her mother gave her a disapproving look as she stepped into the lobby of the country club at her sister’s sides. Her mother wouldn’t make a scene about her choice of look for the evening but Valentina knew it was an inevitable argument later that night.

The night was as boring as she had expected it to be. The open bar, average looking younger partners, fine food, and subpar music did nothing to keep the hyperactive Valentina interested in the event. She and one of her other sisters stayed until the moment it was polite to leave and headed home, neither of them prepared for what else the night had in store for them...

Valentina and her sister who was closest to her in age were laughing and joking in the kitchen of their lavish home, out of their fancy clothes and makeup, wearing only t-shirts, shorts, and messy buns as they made snacks. It was nearly 1 o’clock in the morning when the rest of their family finally made it home and the girls were dancing around to music and having a great time fixing popcorn to add to their snack mix. The booming bass of their father’s voice snapped them out of their carefree reverie. “Paloma! Valentina!” Paloma immediately turned off their music and Val pulled the pot of popcorn off of the hot stove, sharing a frightened look with her sister before calling out; “We’re in the kitchen!”

Paloma was closest when their father bounded into the kitchen, his suit disheveled and a smile on his face. The joy on his face caused the girls to relax a bit, glad that they weren’t going to get told off for once. He enveloped the two youngest girls into a group hug and started laughing. “We got the partnership with the company in New York!” The two girls didn’t know much about the business world but, they did know their parents had been working towards finalizing this partnership for over a year and it was worthy of celebration. Valentina and Paloma squealed a little bit and hugged their father tight in celebration, pulling back to do a quick happy dance with him. He kissed both girls on the head and headed to their living room to get another glass of scotch before bed in celebration.

However, the girls did not get to stay happy for long as the two oldest daughters and their mother came in, obviously in a good mood but not nearly as happy to see the two younger girls as Diego was. Yebin - their mother - looked the two girls up and down and looked at the mess they’d been in the middle of making together in the kitchen and rolled her eyes. “Look at you two, you couldn’t even stay long enough for this important announcement! You just had to get back here and wreck the house as if you pay the bills huh?” Valentina did not react as she was used to her mother’s outbursts, Paloma, however, was one of the angels and was rarely scolded so she couldn’t help but flinch at the bite in Yebin’s tone. Gabriela the second oldest looked at the two of them sympathetically - she’d always tried to protect Valentina the most - Elena the oldest was looking at the two of them as if they’d just killed her puppy.

Yebin left the room with a scoff after receiving no response to seemingly join her husband in the living room for a celebration drink. Valentina paid no mind and went back to happily finishing putting their snack together with Paloma at her side still visibly shaken up by what their mother had said. Gabriela was about to leave for her room before Elena finally spoke up after standing there with a disgusted look on her face. “I can’t believe the two of you had the audacity to leave before the big announcement. It was a very important moment for the company and you two slipped out before anyone could stop you to do what? Come home and act like 8-year-olds? Papa is too high on success to recognize how disrespectful that was, but tomorrow he’s gonna know and he’s going to be very disappointed in you two, just like Eomma and I are.” Paloma visibly stiffened at their sister’s harsh words, looking over at her meekly. Valentina didn’t even react, too used to this kind of attitude from their oldest sister who thought she knew everything about everything.

“Well, we’re not inheriting the company so…” Valentina mumbled under her breath as she began stirring the snack mix and rubbing a hand over Paloma’s back to comfort her - knowing that the older girl was not used to this kind of treatment. “Besides, we didn’t know there was going to be some important announcement because no one ever tells us anything, we’re just expected to show up, look pretty, eat, drink, talk, and then leave. You are the one that has to care about the company Elena, not us. As if anyone cared that I was gone anyway, I bet you all only noticed because Paloma came with me. If I’d left on my own no one would have even cared or noticed.” Finally, Valentina’s dark brown eyes looked over to find her oldest sister, arms crossed over her chest, face flush with anger, and her chest huffing and puffing as she boiled over.

“I’m not an idiot Elena, I may not be top of my class like you all were but, I know when I’m not wanted. Let’s go, Loma.” Her last sentence came out after a deep exhausted sigh as she picked up the bowl of snack mix and she took her closest sister’s hand. Elena wasn’t done with the youngest sister yet as she stepped forward and laid a hand on Valentina’s shoulder to force her to turn and face her again. At this point, Gabriela had stepped back into the kitchen and was about to step in as a mediator when Elena yanked the bowl from Val’s hand and slammed it to the ground - sending glazed ceramic shards, popcorn, chocolate candies, and pretzels all over the kitchen floor around them. Then Elena let out a yell, obviously hoping to get their parent’s attention. “Valentina! How childish of you! You don’t just throw things when someone upsets you!” Elena’s eyes were alight with dramatic tears and her voice held an air of authority she believed she held over the younger girl.

“What kind of drugs are you on, Elena? You threw that! You pulled it right from my hand and dropped it like a toddler throwing a tantrum!” Valentina had had it with her sister at this point, she was trying to remain passive to just get through the night but that was the last straw. Gabriela tried grabbing Elena by the arm and pulling her away but the older girl fought against her. Paloma also tried pulling Val away, she’d seen the youngest sister get into a few fights and knew she was not one to be messed with no matter how angry she or the other person was. Girls had lost earlobes, skin, and even hair when trying to tumble with the younger girl before, so Paloma was just trying to keep both her sisters from ripping each other’s throats out.

Their parents had heard the commotion by this point and were quickly making their way into the large area, seeing the mess on the floor and the two practically feral girls being held by the two more emotionally stable sisters. However, Valentina managed to wiggle out of Paloma’s grip, immediately launching for the oldest sister. Out of her own fear, Gabriela released Elena and the girls collided. Valentina felt like she was burning red hot with rage, her skin felt like it should have been flushed red and smoke should be pouring from her ears. She had had it with her sister's bullshit, she was tired of her mother and she was tired of taking their harsh words and being blamed for things she didn’t do. The youngest girl went for it, her nails scratching at the older girl, hair was pulled from both parties, and there were a multitude of voices overlapping as parents and siblings tried to stop the fight.

After what felt like ages, the room froze - the smell of burnt hair and the sight of smoke stopping everyone in their tracks. Elena was finally yanked from Valentina’s grip, a clump of hair extension in the younger’s hand - lit aflame by the fire now encapsulating her arm, wrist, and hand. Her skin was flushed red, her eyes were burning hot with rage still as the fire began to lick up her arms and dance around her fingertips. The other five family members stood in shock as they looked at Valentina, all anger was gone as they stood frozen in fear of the girl before them. Paloma was the first to snap out of it and recognize the fear that had taken over Valentina as well. The youngest obviously had no idea what was happening just like they all did. She carefully got closer to her sister and tried to calm her, helping her take deep breaths and guiding her to the bathroom. Paloma got Valentina to stand under the cold water of the shower, fully clothed.

At first, the only thing that happened was steam, water hitting fire and burning away into steam. Eventually, Val stood there sobbing and soaked head to toe with ice-cold water but, she remained physically unaffected by the fire that was spread along her skin just moments before.

************

An hour or so later, Paloma and Valentina emerged from the bathroom, Valentina’s hair dripping wet as she was wrapped in a warm robe. Her skin was still warm to the touch, feverish and her naturally tanned skin flushed pink below the surface. Paloma carried the younger girls, wet and burned clothes as she carefully walked her to her room. In the time it took to get Val relatively close to normal the girls had not said a word to each other. Both of them are still very obviously shaken by all of the events of the evening, barely hiding the shake to their hands. Paloma led Valentina to Gabriela’s room, hoping the older but more composed sister would have some answers - only to find it empty and the voices of their siblings and parents still downstairs. The voices were muffled from the distance but, they recognized the angered voice of their father anywhere.

The girls shared a fearful look before turning to get dressed in Valentina’s room. With the younger girl now dressed in a pair of pajamas, her hair now partially dried by a towel, they made their way downstairs to join the rest of their family. With linked arms, the two younger sisters entered the living room of their family’s estate, fear evident in their body language and by the silence still settled over them. Upon entering the room, the already tense air felt like it was set alight again when burning, angry eyes landing on both of them. Although the gazes all quickly settled on Valentina. Anger came from her mother, father and eldest sister - the middle sisters gazing at her pitifully, confusion evident in their features. It was Diego who eventually broke the silence as he glared at both Valentina and Yebin.

“Now, can someone tell me what the fuck just happened to my baby girl in the kitchen?!” All of the women in the room couldn’t help but flinch at his tone of voice and the sheer volume of his frustration. Yebin removed her glare from Valentina finally to look at her husband. “Your baby girl? Now she’s your baby girl? She just tried to kill Elena and you’re being sweet to her?!” Diego clenched his jaw as Yebin walked over to the two younger girls and pulled Paloma away from Valentina, dragging her over and forcing her to sit down next to Elena on the couch - leaving Valentina to shake down to her bones, her hands wringing together and tears welling in her eyes. Diego watched his youngest daughter still obviously shaken and did what her mother failed to do and brought her into his arms, allowing her to burrow into his chest for comfort.

“Yebin how can you say that? She is just as scared as we are! What is wrong with you?!” The daughters couldn’t say anything as their parents very obviously had different feelings about what occurred that evening. Yebin threw her hands up in frustration before pointing to the terrified teenager being comforted by her father. “If you knew the truth you wouldn’t be so sweet to her! She almost killed your oldest daughter! All that did was confirm what I’ve thought for a while - I never should have had her. Because of her, this family is ruined! She’s a whore that wastes our hard-earned money on drugs and alcohol. If she was as good a child as her sisters this never would have happened and no one would ever have found out!”

Everyone in the room - besides Valentina who was still buried in her father’s arms - looked at Yebin in shock. Paloma was almost in tears, Gabriela was speechless, Elena looked like she was about to defend the youngest sister when Diego spoke up again. “How dare you talk about her like that? She is your child who obviously needs our help, Yebin!” The older man ran his hands through Valentina’s damp hair as she sobbed into his chest.

“That is the whole point Diego, she’s my daughter. Not ours. She is a mistake that I never should have made because now she’s ruined everything!” Yebin was screeching at the top of her voice now, her eyes fiery with rage. Diego’s voice was soft as he cradled Valentina in his arms - his beautiful baby girl, who was shaking as sobs wracked her body. “W-what? What do you mean, mi amor? Of course, she’s ours? Our miracle baby. Right?” He placed a kiss to the crown of Valentina’s head, his lips and chest feeling the warmth of his daughter’s feverish temperature. He knew she always ran hotter than the other girls, she always had - but this was different and he could feel it. Everyone in the room could see the gears spinning in his head as his wife looked at him expectantly.

Diego pulled away from Valentina, holding her by her biceps to look at her. Her eyes puffy and red from crying and her skin flushed, but she was still his baby. He didn’t want to believe the thoughts bouncing around his mind. His thinking process was interrupted by Yebin’s voice, clear and frustrated from across the living room. “You’re a smart man, Diego. You know she’s not yours.” An exasperated sigh left her lips as she ran a hand over her face. “We wanted one more child so badly, my love. All the tests told us it wasn’t my fault, but yours. You didn’t want to do anything about it, you were convinced it was my fault. So I did what I had to do. I prayed and prayed. Only it wasn’t God that answered me, but an ancient god of fire. He was the perfect man to father our last child and you never had to know. Until she ruined it, no one would have found out if she had just done as she was told. If she had just been like her sisters. Her half-sisters.”

************

The silence was palpable after Yebin’s reveal. All three older daughters were gawking at their parents, shock obvious across their features. Diego was tearing up and looked into Valentina’s face, he reached two hands up to cup her cheeks. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones as he wiped away fresh tears that rolled down her skin. It felt as though their perfect world had imploded around them. With just one monumental revelation, the once perfect and wealthy family was in shambles at their feet. Yebin was fuming as she watched the exchange between her youngest child and her husband. The rage that was still boiling under her skin could have sent steam out her ears. She wanted Diego to be mad, she needed him to be angry, needed him to hate what Valentina had done as much as she did. In her eyes, Valentina’s behavior had ruined the facade of their perfect household. Her recklessness exposed her mother’s infidelity and put the couple at odds with each other.

As Valentina looked up into the eyes of the man she called Papa, who in her mind would always be her father no matter what her mother said, she frantically searched for what he was thinking. She looked over his face and into his eyes, trying to decipher what the older man was feeling after all of this, as he still held her face in his hands. Suddenly it was like a sheet had been pulled from his eyes as Diego blankly stepped away from his family. He backed up about ten feet, his eyes sweeping across the room. Meeting eyes with his raging wife for a moment, then over his still terrified baby girl Valentina, finally ghosting across the dumbstruck and pitiful faces of his three oldest daughters. After what felt like years, Diego spoke up to them, the emotions coursing through him giving a heaviness to his words.

“Go to bed everyone. I will sleep in my office and do not disturb me.”

With that the older hispanic man showed his age and anger as he stomped off to the other side of their home, leaving the women frozen with shock and rage.

*************

That early morning, Valentina cried herself to sleep while sandwiched between Gabriela and Paloma. The two older sisters joined her soon after they heard her sobs fade into soft breaths and gentle snores. Sleep came to Yebin eventually, uncomfortable in the large, cold bed that she usually shared with her loving husband. Diego however, did not sleep at all. The first few hours after the explosion in their living room, he spent pacing and thinking in his office. Not long before everyone else awoke that late morning - early afternoon, he was frantically working on his computer. When he joined the very tense brunch in the kitchen, he looked as poorly as he felt. The women of the house ate in tense silence waiting for Diego to join them and when he did, soft gasps left all of them as they took in his disheveled state.

Diego did not sit at the table with them, he stood with a stack of papers in his hand at the end of the table. After a long moment of tense silence he looked to his wife and went to hand the papers to her. Yebin began to stammer as she took the papers from him in confusion but Diego spoke up faster. “Those are tickets to Seoul. There is also paperwork for an apartment lease that is signed. You and Valentina will leave tonight. I have set you up at our office in Gangnam, which is where you will be working and living until I have decided how this family will move forward.” As the words left his mouth it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, Valentina stared at the plate in front of her as the other women gawked at Diego.

Yebin was about to say something in her defense when Diego held up a hand to stop her. “I need you both out of my house for a while, Yebin. I can barely look at you right now and I think Valentina would be better off away from here for the time being. So, pack your bags your flight leaves at seven.” Like a ghost he silently fled the room. Valentina said nothing as she quickly stood from the table and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Where she proceeded to lay on her bed and cry for a few hours before her sisters came in and held her. Elena included. The oldest and the youngest had never seen eye to eye but she didn’t want her to be sent away. She still loved her despite their disagreements and Elena couldn’t help but feel guilty about the whole situation.

If she’d just ignored her anger towards the youngest instead of starting a fight maybe this secret never would have been revealed… but it had been and now the Ruiz-Kim women had to make do with the hand they had been dealt.

#scatter brain ;; self para #[ this is only part one guys ]#[ theres gonna be more ]#[ this is basically how she got into the party scene and drugs and stripping ]#my gifs;;

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.

“You’re lying,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.

He hums in response, turning to look at you.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.

Shit.

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”

Your jaw drops.

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week.

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.

“No, but I…”

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.

“Kind of.”

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.

Cocaine.

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.

“So, can I have some?” You ask again.

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words.

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out.

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.

When he wakes, you’re burning up.

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.

It’s the cocaine.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up.

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?”

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.

But you’re not alone.

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.

He’s too late. Maybe much too late.

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson.

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

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teamsarawatshusband · 3 years

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Word Of Honor - 1st watch insta thoughts - Episode 6

First of all, as I gained a lot of new followers, just an FYI: This is me watching Word of Honor for the first time and writing down my thoughts as I go. Mostly it's me being confused as hell and giving all the characters weird names, because I can't remember the real ones. If this is not your thing, feel free to skip these posts and maybe blacklist "smirklord"

If you do choose to read along, please know that these are the most important characters:

Zhou Zi Shu = Baby Zi Shu/ Zhou Xu lord guy/alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy Wen Ke Xing = Smirky Xing/Smirky fan guy Gu Xiang = Purple Girl/my Purple Love/my Purple Queen Smirklord is my personal ship name for Zhou Zi Shu and Wen Ke Xing.

Previous episodes are here.

To anybody who was here before: Sorry that it took me so long to continue this. I accidentally came across a spoiler about my purple queen and I was pretty bummed about it. So I stopped watching for a while. Also, the show is getting more complex and I'm having a harder time remembering who everybody is. But anyway, let's go!

Episode 6:

LOL, Smirky Xing called Baby Xu Mom and wants to be carried. He's so cute when hallucinating.

Anyway, I'm glad Smirky Xing saved Baby Xu. Now, what's the thing he captured?

Baby Xu is hurt, thankfully he's also like a travelling pharmacist.

Oh, Smirky Xing, can I just point out that I have never before seen anybody accuse another person of being a serial killer with such a lovestruck expression on their face. And why do you keep insisting that you’re a good guy when nobody accused you of anything?

Oh, so the zombies and mummies weren't dead, but... living people controlled by someone? What?

LOL, "Do you have a dagger?" and Smirky Xing instantly pulls one out of his sleeve like it's no big deal, and who knows what else he keeps in there.

Ewww, is Baby Xu going to go stabbing at his own wounds? Please no.

Ewww, ewww, ewww. Oh, he's sucking out the poison I guess.

Waaah, what is Smirky Xing going to. - Oh. OMGOMGOMGOMG, eww, but also YESSS, you go for that shoulder kiss, honey, YES! (Sorry, I had to rewind that moment a couple times). Let's rename Smirky Xing to Kissy Xing.

Oh, and this once and for all gave Baby Xu's diguise away. He didn't put make-up on his shoulder.

'Can you show me your real appearance' my ass. He wants to see you naked. And Baby Xu reminds him of consent. I mean, trust. But, really... consent.

OMG, "you can touch it." Yes! Touch it Baby Xu! Touch it!!! Kissy Xing gave his permission!!!

Oooooh, they're dancing again!!!

OMG, they're going to the lake. Is this gonna turn into the dirty dancing lifting figure scene? PLEASE?

I don't even care, this 100% counts as the lifting scene.

Dude, what? Can you not swim? Baby Xu? You okay? He fell into the water, okay. But why doesn't he get back to the surface?????

Does he want to be saved? Please tell me he's not drowning. :O Kissy Xing looks so worried.

Whoa, where did his mask go? :O :O :O

Okay, okay, okay. Clothes on the drying rack, they're basically in their undies. And kissy Xing can't stop staring at Baby Xu's real face.

Real face baby Xu looks so much softer. Still pissy though, did he seriously just wipe the bottle neck? Come on, man. You had his lips suck on your skin already. I'm sure you can take his spit.

So kissy Xing's name is really Wen Ke Xing. And his face is really his face. I do wanna trust him so much. His voice is so soft all of a sudden. Wahhhh.

Oh, so the item they captured was from hanging ghost? But not the real one?

Kissy Xing, you killed the ghost guy while Baby Xu wanted to interrogate him. You say it was a mistake cause you were worried, but you could still very well be nuts guy and make sure nobody gives you away!

I feel a bit like Brad Pitt in Seven. WHAT'S IN THE BOX???!!!!

Zhou Zi Shu! Kissy Xing said the name. HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!!! He recognized him!!!! He knows who he is. But he doesn't say so to his face. Why is everything so confusing???

Should I call Baby Xu Baby Zi Shu from now on?

Noo, don't cut away from smirklord, I wanna keep watching smirklord!

Meh, some stupid guitar guy doing a Jimmi Hendrix impression and lots of dead guys, who might not actually be dead standing in line for the concert tickets.

Some tall hat guy. Who is he? He gets VIP acess.

Is it just me or do you also find it annoying when they're playing instruments and the music doesn't match the finger movements?

Ok, Hendrix guy is scorpion king. Is he related to the scorpion assassins? Anyway, he's got really cool hair. Total rockstar vibes.

Tall hat guy is trying to be charming and coming across like a record label manager.

Okay, so they both don't know what happened and who killed the other ghost guy. Oh, wait, is tall hat guy the one who stole the glazed armor from uncle Zhao? Is the item that Kissy Xing and Baby Zi Shu captured a piece of glazed armor??? :O

Ok, tall hat guy is changing ghost.

Back to Smirklord! YES!

Okay, Baby Zi Shu figured out the item box thing? Is the blue glass thing the glazed armor??? Tbh, it looks a bit like the plastic part of some kid's braces.

Yooo, Kissy Xing coming in hot with the rabbit dowry.

Whoa, Baby Zi Shu just throws the glazed armor over to Kissy Xing, like it's no big deal. He really really doesn't want it. Nice return gift, though.

Okay, what is this flirting? Baby Zi Shu keeps stating that he's a bad guy you need to be terrified of, much like Kissy Xing kept saying he's a good guy. And now he's calling Kissy Xing a trouble.

LOL, Kissy Xing agrees on the gift idea. He wants to carry it on his body. Nice.

K, k, it's uncle Zhao's glazed armor. The kid must have his own armor somehow. And the ghost guys are trying to play all the other parties and make them doubt each other. I see.

Kissy Xing is so whipped, wow. He'll do anything, including gutting the rabbits.

LOL, they're trying to give the kid food. Like that EVER worked before at all. No, uncle Zhao, you dimwit, he does NOT have a good appetite, lol.

Why is everybody giving the kid a hard time about crying. His family got murdered, his two adopted dads left him all alone with the two weird uncles... Of course he's gonna cry. Duh.

Ah, geez, Uncle Shen, just shut up. You know nothing. (he's not smart enough to be called a-hole guy anymore, sorry)

Okay, so, three glazed armor pieces have been stolen from their owners. But Uncle Zhao still has his? Then whose piece was stolen the other night? What? And who is brother Lu? Was that the kid's dad?

Now there's two more older guys, who are they? Oh, one is Lord of Broken Sword Manor. Wait, wasn't that magenta guy? Or was that his son? Somebody PLEASE fill me in here.

The other one is brother Yu, whoever that is.

Seriously, every time pleated skirt soldier boss jerk uncle shen a-hole guy opens his mouth I wanna slap him.

Kissy Xing and Baby Zi Shu are wearing new clothes. When and where did they change? Were they together when they changed? Hehe, I need to know. For science.

They are returning to the bamboo woods and the bodies from the previous night are gone. Kissy Xing asks why Baby Zi Shu had the antidote to the hallucination drug. Actually, good question. Baby Zi Shu, why DID you have the antidote? Oh, it's a Window of Heaven thing?

WHATWHATWHAT? The illusion makes people see what they WANT THE MOST? And Baby Zi Shu drops this knowledge just like that while WE know that Kissy Xing called him by his real name, i.e. saw HIM, whilst under the illusion??? WHAT???

Nooo, Kissy Xing, why are you lying? Why won't you tell what you saw when you hallucinated? I wanna know too, gah!!!

Yo, Baby Zi Shu DEVELOPED the illusion drug? As a sleep remedy, lol. Nice.

K, who's the guy in the carriage at Sanbai Manor? Han Ying. Who is that? Have we seen him before?

Did Baby Zi Shu just tell Kissy Xing the truth about himself killing people, setting them on fire etc.? That came out super smooth.

They're talking about this heroes conference that was mentioned before, but I have no idea what it is, and what it relates to. I'm so bad at remembering TV series plotlines... I'm assuming that this conference is where the uncles take the kid to.

Aww, Baby Zi Shu keeps close by and watches over the kid.

Kissy Xing wants 30 copies of the glazed armor piece. And he is freaking rich, man.

Waaaah, my purple queen! I've missed her so much. And she's kept the other girls around. And they're playing strip mahjong, apparently, lol. Yes, good for her! Also, Bechdel test passed! Nice.

Where are they anyway? Which town is this? Was this mentioned, did I miss it?

K, so Kissy Xing wants to pay the two girls out so they'll leave (very obviously), but they don't want to. Is he going to make my queen kill them after all? And she gives him nuts in return. Hmm. I mean, seriously. He MUST be nuts guy. There were SO MANY hints.

Oh, he lets them stay and become My queen's servants.

What? What is this secret plan? What are they gonna do with the fake pieces of glazed armor?

Noooooo, don't end here!!!!!

Wahhh

Okay, what have I learned: Baby Zi Shu's real name! And that Kissy Xing knows him from somewhere. Also learned what glazed armor pieces look like. My queen loves playing strip mahjong. And people are meeting up for some heroes conference.

Goals for future episodes: Find out how Kissy Xing and Baby Zi Shu know each other. Finally finish that name chart thing and add all the new people, omg.

#word of honor #1st watch insta thoughts #word of honor ep 06 #smirklord

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kny111 · 4 years

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Prepare for the Ultimate Gaslighting*

by Julio Vincent Gambuto

*Gaslighting, if you don’t know the word, is defined as manipulation into doubting your own sanity; as in, Carl made Mary think she was crazy, even though she clearly caught him cheating. He gaslit her.

Pretty soon, as the country begins to figure out how we “open back up” and move forward, very powerful forces will try to convince us all to get back to normal. (That never happened. What are you talking about?) Billions of dollars will be spent on advertising, messaging, and television and media content to make you feel comfortable again. It will come in the traditional forms — a billboard here, a hundred commercials there — and in new-media forms: a 2020–2021 generation of memes to remind you that what you want again is normalcy. In truth, you want the feeling of normalcy, and we all want it. We want desperately to feel good again, to get back to the routines of life, to not lie in bed at night wondering how we’re going to afford our rent and bills, to not wake to an endless scroll of human tragedy on our phones, to have a cup of perfectly brewed coffee and simply leave the house for work. The need for comfort will be real, and it will be strong. And every brand in America will come to your rescue, dear consumer, to help take away that darkness and get life back to the way it was before the crisis. I urge you to be well aware of what is coming.

For the last hundred years, the multibillion-dollar advertising business has operated based on this cardinal principle: Find the consumer’s problem and fix it with your product. When the problem is practical and tactical, the solution is “as seen on TV” and available at Home Depot. Command strips will save me from having to repaint. So will Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser. Elfa shelving will get rid of the mess in my closet. The Ring doorbell will let me see who’s on the porch if I can’t take my eyes off Netflix. But when the problem is emotional, the fix becomes a new staple in your life, and you become a lifelong loyalist. Coca-Cola makes you: happy. A Mercedes makes you: successful. Taking your family on a Royal Caribbean cruise makes you: special. Smart marketers know how to highlight what brands can do for you to make your life easier. But brilliant marketers know how to rewire your heart. And, make no mistake, the heart is what has been most traumatized this last month. We are, as a society, now vulnerable in a whole new way.

What the trauma has shown us, though, cannot be unseen. A carless Los Angeles has clear blue skies as pollution has simply stopped. In a quiet New York, you can hear the birds chirp in the middle of Madison Avenue. Coyotes have been spotted on the Golden Gate Bridge. These are the postcard images of what the world might be like if we could find a way to have a less deadly daily effect on the planet. What’s not fit for a postcard are the other scenes we have witnessed: a health care system that cannot provide basic protective equipment for its frontline; small businesses — and very large ones — that do not have enough cash to pay their rent or workers, sending over 16 million people to seek unemployment benefits; a government that has so severely damaged the credibility of our media that 300 million people don’t know who to listen to for basic facts that can save their lives.

The cat is out of the bag. We, as a nation, have deeply disturbing problems. You’re right. That’s not news. They are problems we ignore every day, not because we’re terrible people or because we don’t care about fixing them, but because we don’t have time. Sorry, we have other shit to do. The plain truth is that no matter our ethnicity, religion, gender, political party (the list goes on), nor even our socioeconomic status, as Americans we share this: We are busy. We’re out and about hustling to make our own lives work. We have goals to meet and meetings to attend and mortgages to pay — all while the phone is ringing and the laptop is pinging. And when we get home, Crate and Barrel and Louis Vuitton and Andy Cohen make us feel just good enough to get up the next day and do it all over again. It is very easy to close your eyes to a problem when you barely have enough time to close them to sleep. The greatest misconception among us, which causes deep and painful social and political tension every day in this country, is that we somehow don’t care about each other. White people don’t care about the problems of black America. Men don’t care about women’s rights. Cops don’t care about the communities they serve. Humans don’t care about the environment. These couldn’t be further from the truth. We do care. We just don’t have the time to do anything about it. Maybe that’s just me. But maybe it’s you, too.

Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What in the holy fuck just happened? I hope you might consider this: What happened is inexplicably incredible. It’s the greatest gift ever unwrapped. Not the deaths, not the virus, but The Great Pause. It is, in a word, profound. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window. I know it hurts your eyes. It hurts mine, too. But the curtain is wide open. What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views. At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped. Here it is. We’re in it. Stores are closed. Restaurants are empty. Streets and six-lane highways are barren. Even the planet itself is rattling less (true story). And because it is rarer than rare, it has brought to light all of the beautiful and painful truths of how we live. And that feels weird. Really weird. Because it has… never… happened… before. If we want to create a better country and a better world for our kids, and if we want to make sure we are even sustainable as a nation and as a democracy, we have to pay attention to how we feel right now. I cannot speak for you, but I imagine you feel like I do: devastated, depressed, and heartbroken.

And what a perfect time for Best Buy and H&M and Wal-Mart to help me feel normal again. If I could just have the new iPhone in my hand, if I could rest my feet on a pillow of new Nikes, if I could drink a venti blonde vanilla latte or sip a Diet Coke, then this very dark feeling would go away. You think I’m kidding, that I’m being cute, that I’m denying the very obvious benefits of having a roaring economy. You’re right. Our way of life is not without purpose. The economy is not, at its core, evil. Brands and their products create millions of jobs. Like people — and most anything in life — there are brands that are responsible and ethical, and there are others that are not. They are all part of a system that keeps us living long and strong. We have lifted more humans out of poverty through the power of economics than any other civilization in history. Yes, without a doubt, Americanism is a force for good. It is not some villainous plot to wreak havoc and destroy the planet and all our souls along with it. I get it, and I agree. But its flaws have been laid bare for all to see. It doesn’t work for everyone. It’s responsible for great destruction. It is so unevenly distributed in its benefit that three men own more wealth than 150 million people. Its intentions have been perverted, and the protection it offers has disappeared. In fact, it’s been brought to its knees by one pangolin. We have got to do better and find a way to a responsible free market.

Until then, get ready, my friends. What is about to be unleashed on American society will be the greatest campaign ever created to get you to feel normal again. It will come from brands, it will come from government, it will even come from each other, and it will come from the left and from the right. We will do anything, spend anything, believe anything, just so we can take away how horribly uncomfortable all of this feels. And on top of that, just to turn the screw that much more, will be the one effort that’s even greater: the all-out blitz to make you believe you never saw what you saw. The air wasn’t really cleaner; those images were fake. The hospitals weren’t really a war zone; those stories were hyperbole. The numbers were not that high; the press is lying. You didn’t see people in masks standing in the rain risking their lives to vote. Not in America. You didn’t see the leader of the free world push an unproven miracle drug like a late-night infomercial salesman. That was a crisis update. You didn’t see homeless people dead on the street. You didn’t see inequality. You didn’t see indifference. You didn’t see utter failure of leadership and systems.

But you did. You are not crazy, my friends. And so we are about to be gaslit in a truly unprecedented way. It starts with a check for $1,200 (Don’t say I never gave you anything) and then it will be so big that it will be bigly. And it will be a one-two punch from both big business and the big White House — inextricably intertwined now more than ever and being led by, as our luck would have it, a Marketer in Chief. Business and government are about to band together to knock us unconscious again. It will be funded like no other operation in our lifetimes. It will be fast. It will be furious. And it will be overwhelming. The Great American Return to Normal is coming. _________________________________________________________ Continue To Full Piece At Medium

#opinion #literature #lit #covid-19 #coronavirus #pandemic #writing #disenfranchisement #oppression #abuse

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yesloverboy · 5 years

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Punk Rock Girl, Please Look at Me (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: @angelfuzzy2

“Oh well it could kinda be a one shot , But I do have one , where Tommy Meets the reader , like early on in his life , looses her (like lost track of her) later to find out she’s a famous singer and tommy meets her again , at her concert or they meet at a party again and reconnect , but the rest of the band don’t know the reader is like seriously famous yet , just Tommy , but the band finds out later”

Note: Thank you all for your patience! I loved writing this request so much, so let me know if y’all would like to see sequel. As always, I know I’ve been a super slow writer because of my new job, but feel free to send me more requests! They’re pretty much always open, and I’m more than willing to write for the other Crüe boys. :)

Edit: also props to anyone who knows where I got the title from.

word count: 5,632

[Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, misogyny, swearing, drug & alcohol mention/usage, mild injuries, and two pining idiots]

The stage lights are blinding as the last note of the song plays out, the sound of guitar feedback drowning out the roar of the crowd beneath you. You breathe hard, sweat dripping from your hair as a broad smile stretches across your face. This is what you loved most in the world– playing music in front of dozens of your supporting fans. When you sang, they sang every word right back to you. No feeling in the world could ever replace that. You and your band Vertigo are on the verge of a big break, and these are the people that helped get you there.

As you step off the stage, your manager Scott immediately rushes to your side with a towel and a water bottle in hand. You accept both, pouring the water onto your head and shaking off like a dog. Scott raises his hands in an effort to shield himself, but ends up showered with water anyways. You roll your eyes, not knowing what the big deal is. It’s your final show of the tour, he should be used to it by now.

“Hey, Y/N!” Scott calls as you move past him to go to the green room, “There’s a guy out by the bar that’s been bugging all night to see you.”

You turn on your heel to face Scott, eyebrow raised in confusion, “What guy?”

Scott shrugs, “Says his name is Tommy Lee.”

Tommy Lee, your mind reels at the sound of his name. A flash of memories flood your head, all of which playing visions of your childhood. Tommy had been your first friend when you moved to California in the third grade, and ended up being your last when you moved away in high school. All these years, you can’t believe that he would remember you, let alone recognize you.

You give your bandmates a quick heads up, and amble out to the bar area in search of Tommy. Surprisingly, you feel nervous for the first time in years. You aren’t sure what he looks like or what he’s up to these days– and there is always the chance that he wouldn’t take a girl in a band seriously. That happens a lot more than you’d like to admit.

Luckily, you don’t have to search for long before a loud voice calls to you from the end of the bar.

“Y/N! Hey, over here!”

You look over and are caught breathless by the sight of a tall stranger with long, brown hair waving enthusiastically in your direction. He definitely looks different from how you remember, but the smile he’s giving you is just the same. Back in the day, you knew Tommy was a cute kid, but you never imagined he would turn out to look quite this handsome. He’s tall, lean, and completely rocking a pair of tight, leather pants.

Walking over, you muss your hair into some semblance of order and wipe at the remaining eyeliner running from the corners of your eyes. You are fully aware of how much of a mess you look. It’s a part of your thing. Smeared lipstick, melted eyeliner, and ripped jeans are basically your work uniform. Music executives and your fans like you because of how uncaring you look. You’re like one of the guys– only hotter. The problem is, you had never once been self-conscious about it. That is, until now.

As you nervously approach Tommy’s smiling face, you notice he has a slightly busted lip and the ghost of a black eye beginning to form. He stands up from his seat at the bar, towering over you at a surprising height.

“Tommy, is that really you?” you ask, feeling as though you’re practically looking up into his eyes, “How in the hell did you find me?”

“The one and only!” Tommy laughs, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. He still has a familiar smell that lingers with the cigarette smoke clinging to his hair and clothes. “I actually got kicked out of the bar across the street so I came over here,” he answers sheepishly.

“Kicked out? Tommy what fuck–”

“It doesn’t matter, dude, because I found you!” Tommy slaps you hard on the shoulder, his boyish grin still persisting, “Your band fucking rocks, by the way. When did you learn to sing like that?”

“Oh, um, I guess when I moved away? I didn’t have many friends so I turned to music instead,” you reply, face feeling hot from the sound of Tommy’s praises, “Obviously, it’s more complicated than that, but you get the idea.”

Tommy grabs his beer off the bar and tips it back, finishing the rest of it in one gulp, “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of a large hand and you feel your throat go dry. When you were younger, Tommy had been the one person you could always be yourself around. However, having him barge into your life as a hot stranger is an entirely different story.

“Tommy, I don’t know, man. My band is probably gonna come looking for me.”

“Let ‘em. Remember the old diner at the end of the block? It’ll be just like old times,” Tommy looks at you with pleading, blue eyes, reminding you of the first time you met him on the playground all those years ago. “Besides, my band might just be looking for me, too.”

“Aw, fuck it,” you relent, trying your best to conceal the smile on your face. Needless to say, it’s a losing battle.

...

You and Tommy end up staying at the diner until closing, exchanging old memories over a shared platter of blueberry pancakes and a chocolate shake. As it fate would have it, the two of you still have just as much in common as you did when you were kids. Maybe even more.

It absolutely delighted you to find out that Tommy is still playing the drums– only this time it’s for a band of his very own. He told you that he even found a friend from high school to join Mötley Crüe, but he and Tommy had apparently met long after you’d already left. Vince was his name and, although he sounds like a bit of a diva, Tommy insisted that you’ll like him. Then again, Tommy likes everyone.

Eventually, you’d even gotten around to telling Tommy all about Vertigo and how you had already amassed a large following on the East Coast. When the band’s single got played on a radio station in the UK, that was the moment you all decided to take things to the next level. The only piece of the puzzle that seemed to be missing was the West Coast, which gave you the perfect excuse to end the tour in L.A. and relocate.

“Wait, so you’re back for good?” Tommy had asked, eyes hopeful as he nearly bounced out of his seat.

“For now,” you smiled, knowing that you couldn’t totally be sure. Your chest tightened as you found a small part of yourself wanting to say yes instead.

In your life, you had never been the kind of person who thought they needed to be completed by anyone else. You’re independent– a stand alone personality and the hero of your own story. However, something about seeing Tommy again brought your attention to an emptiness in your heart that you never knew existed. It didn’t make any sense. Being in the band meant you were around guys all day, and not a single one made you take so much as a second glance.

Now, as you and Tommy step out of the vacant diner and onto the strip, you catch yourself staring as the neon lights shift and dance across his face. Much like when you were kids, Tommy’s resting face was one of a perpetual smile– even with a black eye and a busted lip.

“Hey dude,” Tommy stops suddenly, shaking you out of your trance, “you should totally come meet the band!”

“Are they nearby?” you ask, eyebrows raised as you scan the droves of people clamouring along the strip.

Tommy scoffs, “Where do you think I was with before I found your sorry ass?”

You giggle at his teasing tone and ram your body into his, nearly crowding Tommy off of the sidewalk and into the busy street.

“Better watch yourself Bass, or Mötley Crüe might end up needing a new drummer,” you bait as Tommy catches his balance, teetering on a single foot back to the safety of the sidewalk. “Since when did you start going by Lee, anyways?

“Since it sounded so much cooler,” he grins, throwing his long arm over your shoulders and around your neck as the two of you walk onward.

“Cool? When have you ever been cool?”

Tommy glances down at you, knitting his brows together and pursing his lips in exaggeration. “Now that I think about it, right around when you left. Your nerd juice must have stopped rubbing off on me.”

“Shut the fuck up, loser,” you groan in frustration. Although you sound annoyed, you still lean into his side, maybe getting a little bit cozier than you ought to. To your satisfaction, Tommy hums contently and holds onto you just a little bit tighter. At this point in your lives, you and Tommy should have so many degrees of separation between the two of you that it would be impossible to connect again. Yet, here you are. Walking side by side, as if your feet had been stepping in sync with his for all those empty years in between. You wonder if he can feel it, too.

After walking a few blocks, you and Tommy stroll up towards a broken-down dive bar teeming with people. Judging by the leather clad kids in patched jackets and paramilitary boots, it is definitely the kind of punk scene you were comfortable in. Tommy’s pretty-boy appearance causes him to stand out a little, but his attitude makes up for it tenfold.

As you approach the bar, Tommy leads right up to a couple of young guys knocking back a row of shots. A third, more mature-looking man watches them from a barstool, disdain visible even from behind the dark sunglasses over his eyes. The man in the sunglasses notices the two of you walking up together and pulls down his shades to reveal a pair of cold, blue eyes.

“Drummer,” the man nods, “and friend.” Despite the room’s warmth from the summer heat, the iciness in the man’s stare makes you shiver involuntarily.

“What’s up fuckers!” Tommy exclaims, slapping the two younger guys on the back excitedly. The taller of the two spins around first, his mane of fluffy black hair sticking up wildly in all directions.

“Hey T-bone! Where the fuck have you been? Nice shiner, by the way,” his face twists into a mischievous smile as his green eyes land on you, “And who do we have here?”

“Oh yeah! Nikki, this is Y/N. She was, like, my best friend when we were kids. I just found her at a show a little bit ago.”

Nikki nudges the guy at his side, blonde hair and skin-tight tank top making you recognize him as Vince from yours and Tommy’s high school. You never actually got the chance to meet him before you moved away, but Tommy’s description of him being a diva seems pretty spot-on.

“Hey, Vinnie, check out T-bone’s best friend,” you frown at the patronizing lilt in Nikki’s voice, but decide to let it slide for now.

Vince grabs a beer off of the bar, taking a thoughtful swig while he studies you. “Well, well, well– it looks like Tommy’s found himself another one already.”

“Another one, what?” you snap, unable to control your flush of anger.

From what you could remember, Tommy may have been girl-crazy– and a little stupid sometimes –but he was never as arrogant and mean-spirited as the two guys in front of you seem to be coming across. It’s clear to you, even now, that Tommy is still a kid at heart, but his friends were ready to be rockstars down to their very core.

Vince takes a reflexive step back from you, and you smirk with satisfaction. “Uh, nothing,” he flounders, eyes darting between Nikki and Tommy anxiously. From his seat at the bar, you can hear the man in the sunglasses chuckle.

Vince throws his beer in the man’s direction and misses, the bottle clattering noisily to the floor without breaking. “Shut the fuck up, Mick,” Vince’s clearly bruised ego almosts gets a laugh out of you.

“Chill out, dude,” Nikki purs, stepping directly past Tommy and into your personal space, “you don’t have to explain anything to us– we get it.”

Tommy tries to wedge himself between you and Nikki, doing his best to intervene before things can escalate any further. Your teeth are gritted, firmly locking your jaw in an expression of restrained anger. More than anything, you want to wipe Nikki’s smug smile right off of his face. Nikki might be nearly as tall as Tommy, but you refuse to be intimidated.

The only thing stopping you is knowing that giving Nikki a fight would only cause more problems than it could solve. Even then, when you first agreed to be the frontwoman of Vertigo, you promised yourself that you would hold your own with the band guys without ever becoming like any of them. You aren’t about to let some amateur punk change that.

“Dudes, calm down! Y/N is one of my oldest friends, and I swear it’s not like that!”

“Whatever you say, T-bone,” Nikki shrugs, finally backing away from you in favor of leaning up against the bar. He stands there cooly as if he wasn’t just inches away from you. It’s more than obvious that Nikki was never actually going to engage in any kind of fight– the confrontation alone is enough to get him off.

Rolling your eyes, you return to Tommy’s side, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and his bandmates without hurting his feelings. You’re used to dealing with shitty rockstars and wannabe playboys, but since Vertigo’s newfound successes you had been dealing with it far less often.

“Besides,” Tommy continues, talking to no one in particular as he rests a supportive hand on your shoulder, “Y/N isn’t just my friend she’s–”

Realizing that Tommy is about to expose you as the singer of Vertigo, you quickly interrupt. Judging by the way Vince and Nikki feel about you while assuming you’re just some random girl, you decide that they don’t need to know you’re in a band. Hyper-masculine rock types tend to not take kindly to any woman that isn’t Joan Jett, and you aren’t ready to crack open that can of worms.

“Just visiting!” you say, plastering an artificial smile across your face.

For some reason, your reunion with Tommy makes you want to keep seeing him while you’re in town, and the only way that can happen is if you have as little attention paid to you as possible. With the band’s popularity on the East Coast, you know it won’t be long before everyone in L.A. will know your name– even the guys in Mötley Crüe.

“Speaking of,” you turn to Tommy, blatantly disregarding the confounded expression on his face, “I think I should probably be getting back to my hotel right about now. It’s getting late.”

“Uh yeah, sure,” Tommy blinks, “let me walk you there.”

“Come on, man, you don’t have to do all that. It’s way too long of a walk,” you complain knowing full well that you can handle a late night stroll on your own. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“As if a short shit like you could hold your own in the big city,” Tommy’s joking voice settles your nerves. You turn to lead the way out of the bar, not bothering to say another word to the rest of Mötley Crüe.

By the time you shove past the shuffling crowd of punks and step outside, Tommy has already caught up to you. The night is warm with a gentle breeze that tickles your face, reminding you of careless, childhood summers where your nights spent at home were few and far between. Tommy had been by your side then and, miraculously, he’s at your side now. You find yourself constantly amazed at the way so much can change, and yet stay exactly the same.

“Sorry about all that, dude,” Tommy’s eyes are trained on the ground as he kicks his feet sheepishly, “I don’t know what’s gotten into them tonight. I mean, I know how they are around girls but you’re– you’re different.”

You punch his shoulder playfully, not wanting Tommy to feel responsible for the fact that his friends were clearly just drunk idiots acting like pigs.

“It’s alright, Tommy. You can’t fix stupid. Trust me, I tried to fix you for years.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grins, eyes finally meeting yours. Every time Tommy looks at you, something stirs inside of you that you can’t put your finger on. The feeling excites and scares you, but you know that all of the best things in life are supposed to make you feel that way. Arm in arm, you and Tommy walk into the neon glow of the night, your heart skipping a beat with every step.

...

The walk ends up being a lot longer than either of you had expected, but neither of you seem to mind. In fact, the further you got away from the strip, the more connected to Tommy you seem to feel. The two of you had passed a cigarette back and forth as you travelled, walking so closely that it was a miracle one of you hadn’t tripped over the other’s feet.

When you finally approach your hotel, Tommy nearly passes it up. He didn’t realize that the art deco building with valet parking is basically your home until you find something more permanent. Your manager had arranged everything for you and, although you argued in favor of a simple motel, he obviously hadn’t listened to a word you said.

“Holy fuck, dude. This is your hotel?”

You suddenly flush red with embarrassment, feeling very not punk rock in the presence of such an extravagant building. “Uh, yeah. It seems that my manager went a little overboard when booking our place, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? This place is rad as fuck,” Tommy turns to you in a sudden burst of energy with a wild look in his eyes, “Do you think you’d let me come up and see the place?”

Although his question is innocent enough, you can’t ignore the way your stomach backflips at the thought of being alone with Tommy in your bedroom. With the recent upheaval of emotions you’d been experiencing since Tommy catapulted himself back into your life, you know that being with him any longer is bound to be a bad idea. It really was getting late, and part of you is starting to wonder if your feelings are real or just a product of exhaustion.

Still, Tommy’s sparkling blue eyes pull you in and you find yourself nodding your head yes before you can give his question a second thought. When the two of you walk inside, you’re too amused by Tommy’s enraptured gaze to notice the weird stares that the staff and other guests were shooting your way. There’s no doubt that you and Tommy stand out among the marble floors and jewel-encrusted chandeliers. Still, you smile all the way to the elevators, noting how small Tommy appears beneath the vaulted ceilings.

“I can’t believe you get to stay at a place like this,” Tommy says as the two of you step into the elevator. You aren’t sure if you’re seeing things or going crazy from exhaustion, but the sight of Tommy’s bruised eye glistening under the golden fluorescents looks strangely beautiful.

“Pretty crazy, huh?” you reply, knowing that the craziest part of your whole return to L.A. is standing right in front of you.

When the elevator reaches the thirteenth floor, you walk out ahead of Tommy, escorting him down the snaking hallway and to the front door of your room. You pry the door open, your breath hitching slightly as you feel Tommy shuffle in behind you. The room is spacious, with a plush king-sized bed and a floor to ceiling view of the city below.

“Damn dude, I really hope Mötley Crüe can come to places like this someday,” Tommy says, sauntering over to the window. He pushes the curtain back, revealing the city lights glittering in the darkness.

“You will.” Even though Tommy’s bandmates were indefinitely jerks, you believe in Tommy’s talent more than anyone else searching for stardom in this godforsaken city.

“Hey Tommy, I think I still have some bubbly the hotel left me if you wanna crack it open,” you bend over, reaching into the mini fridge to retrieve the full-sized bottle of champagne the hotel manager had left on your bed yesterday. While you were thankful for the welcome gift, you had never been one to drink alone. Tommy just so happens to be the perfect excuse to not let it go to waste.

Weirdly enough, Tommy doesn’t answer you. Standing upright again, you set the bottle on the dresser and decide to find out what’s captured his short attention span this time. Turning around, you nearly slam right into Tommy– not realizing he had been standing so close to you. He catches your arms, gently wrapping his large hands around your wrists to steady your balance.

“Shit, Tommy,” you laugh nervously, “I didn’t see you there–”

Before you can finish your thought, Tommy’s lips are pressed against your own. Instinctively, you kiss him back, feeling as though your body is on autopilot while your ability to think rationally takes the back seat.

You shiver as your lips melt into Tommy’s, his kisses becoming more frantic and desperate. Releasing his hold on your arms, Tommy cups the sides of your face. His tongue grazes your bottom lip, silently requesting permission to cross a line you can never come back from.

Gasping into his touch, you give him the freedom to explore. Slowly, he starts distancing his sloppy kisses from your mouth and places them on your jawline. You take in a sharp breath as he goes to work on your neck, your hands finding themselves nestled firmly in his hair as he nips at your throat.

“Fuck Tommy,” you pant, trying to gain some semblance of clarity, “what are we doing?”

Tommy stops kissing your neck to give you a firm look, his eyes dark with desire. “What I’ve always wanted to do,” he replies.

Your heart leaps at his confession, compelling you to kiss him once again. This time, Tommy’s hands snake up your shirt as he pulls your body against his. You yank your shirt up over your head, feeling as though the room is far too hot for the amount of clothes you’re wearing. Before you can start unfastening the button of your jeans, Tommy shoves you roughly onto the bed. You fall dizzily onto the plush duvet, your skin feeling as though its on fire.

“No, baby,” he growls, “that’s my job.”

Tommy discards his shirt, leaving himself standing bare-chested before you. Your face flushes at the sight of his cock throbbing through the constraint of his leather pants.

Fuck he’s gorgeous.

As you stare up at Tommy you can’t help but wonder how he turned out this way. If someone told you yesterday that you’d be moments away from fucking your childhood best friend, you would’ve laughed right in your face. Now here you are, shirtless and squirming with anticipation on your bed.

As you stare up at Tommy you can’t help but wonder how he turned out this way. If someone told you yesterday that you’d be moments away from fucking your childhood best friend, you would’ve laughed right in their face. Now here you are, shirtless and squirming with anticipation on your bed.

Before you can get lost in your thoughts any longer, Tommy is on top of you. Your mouths crash together in a hot disarray of lips and tongue. Tommy goes back to kissing your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin until it becomes bruised between his teeth. With each love bite, his mouth travels lower. All you can do is gasp with pleasure as he places a wet kiss on your lower abdomen, his hands going to work on pulling off your jeans.

As you lay there in your underwear, Tommy kneels before you at the edge of the bed, pausing to admire the shape of your body as it splays out before him.

“God, baby,” Tommy murmurs, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “you look so delicious spread out for me like this...”

Tommy situates himself between your legs, gripping your thighs tightly. You suck in a sharp breath as Tommy begins peppering your inner thigh with soft kisses, his lips fluttering painfully close to your bikini line. He looks up at you, dark blue eyes sparkling dangerously beneath his eyelashes.

“Can I make you feel good, baby girl? I want you to feel good,” his hot breath ghosts against the wet spot on your panties, and you find yourself nodding vigorously in response.

Tommy just shoots you a mischievous grin, licking a wet stripe up your clothed pussy. You are unable to contain the strangled moan that leaves your lips, fingers clawing aimlessly at the duvet for support. Your underwear is soaking wet, and you’re unsure how much longer you’ll last without any actual contact.

“Use your words, Y/N,” Tommy laps at your heat once again, eliciting another desperate gasp from you, “tell me what you want, baby.”

Crazed by Tommy’s teasing, you finally relent, “Please make me feel good, Tommy. Fuck, I want you–I wanted you the minute I saw you.”

Tommy chuckles darkly, aggressively pulling your panties off of your hips and onto the floor. Without so much as a warning, his tongue is on you; lapping at your hot center hungrily. As he sucks on your clit, you feel a large hand dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, raking downwards and scratching your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” you chant, your abdomen tightening with hot pressure. You grip his hair as your hips involuntarily buck into his mouth, legs shaking as he hums with pleasure against your clit.

“You taste so good,” Tommy moans, curling one of his long fingers inside of you.

You clench around him, unable to keep your orgasm from taking you over any longer. A series of moans fall from your lips, your body hot with pins and needles. With your hands firmly twisted in the sheets, you come all over Tommy’s mouth and fingers.

Sitting upright, you blink at Tommy, mind dizzy with pleasure. “Oh my fucking god, Tommy,” you pant, “where did you learn to do that?”

“Lots of practice,” Tommy winks leaning in to kiss you. His lips are soft and loving against yours, causing a shiver to run up your spine. As the kiss becomes more intense, Tommy peels off his leather pants and climbs on top of you, pinning you onto the bed by your wrists.

“I don’t think so,” you growl between kisses, shifting your weight to wrestle for control.

You bite Tommy’s lip hard, catching him off guard just enough to roll him over. Climbing on top of him, you straddle Tommy’s hips firmly and situate yourself on the rock hard bulge in his underwear. Tommy hisses as you apply more pressure, his hands digging into your hip bones. Grinding against him, you pull him into another heated kiss. Tommy’s busted lip had reopened after you’d bitten him, causing a little bit of blood to drip into your mouth.

Deep down, you know you should stop kissing him like this, but something about seeing Tommy all roughed up turns you on in ways you would never have imagined. Judging by Tommy’s aggressive hold on your hips, you can only assume he’s feeling the same way. Without warning, Tommy shoves you aside to pull off his underwear. When his cock springs free, you are surprised to find that it’s even bigger than you expected.

Seeing your eyes widen, Tommy chuckles darkly, “Think you can handle it, honey?” Your heartbeat quickens as you look at Tommy’s flushed fash and tangled hair, a drop of blood trickling lazily down his chin.

“Try me,” you say definiantly, pushing him back down.

You mount him again, only this time there’s no fabric to separate the two of you. Teasingly, you rub your slick folds over the head of his dick, hoping that– maybe –you can make him beg for it. Tommy hisses as you rake your nails against his chest, leaving a trail of little pink lines behind.

“Fuck, baby, you’re such a bad girl,” Tommy gasps, “Wanna–wanna fuck you so bad.”

Hearing Tommy pleas makes you wet all over again, wanting so desperately to fill whatever was empty inside of you with the man under you. Slowly, you sink onto his cock, your inner walls stinging slightly from the stretch. Truthfully, you had never fucked a guy this big, and Tommy was barely fitting inside of you.

Tommy bites his lip, noticing the strain you’re experiencing. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, “you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Encouraged by Tommy’s praises, you begin to rock back and forth. Tommy’s breathing becomes heavier with every stroke, and, before you know it, he’s guiding your movements with the grip he has on your waist. He feels good, better than any guy you’d ever been with, and you wonder if this is what you had been missing all along.

“You look so good when you fuck me baby,” Tommy babbles, his hips snapping up to meet yours. Tommy sits up, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you flush against his chest. His face is right up against yours as he fucks into you, your breathy moans falling hot against his open mouth.

Tommy’s fingers snake up your back and curl into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging hard. You cry out from a mix of pain and pleasure, the heat in your abdomen tightening.

“Want me to make you feel good again? Hmm?” Tommy asks, blue eyes fixated firmly on your own. Without giving it a second thought, you nod, rocking your hips into his as sweat trickles in tiny beads down your face.

Suddenly Tommy’s hand firmly grips your throat, applying gentle pressure just beneath your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat as your breathing is restricted, waves of euphoria radiating through your body. Just as your vision begins to go a little spotty, your orgasm rips through you. As you cry out, Tommy’s movements become erratic and sloppy, his pleasure directly feeding on your own.

Tommy’s chanting your name when his orgasm hits, pumping into you while his hands grasp your face lovingly, his eyes never leaving yours. The both of you go limp, breathing and panting hard. Tommy falls back into the duvet, while you remain sprawled out on his chest, lightheaded and thoroughly exhausted.

“Oh...my fucking god,” Tommy heaves, the satisfaction in his voice audible. You can’t help but giggle breathlessly, “Emphasis on the fucking.”

Humming contently, you snuggle into his chest, feeling strangely at peace for someone who just fucked their childhood best friend. Tommy runs his fingers through you hair delicately, the act feeling drastically different from how he had been touching you just moments before. There’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you never knew could be there, and it’s consuming you like a wildfire.

A moment of comfortable silence passes between the two of you. Tommy pets your hair as you trace small circles on his bare chest and, somehow, the exchange feels more intimate than anything else the two of you had experienced together in the past hour.

“Y/N?” Tommy asks, his voice small.

You look up at him to find his expression unreadable. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Can I–can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you place a warm kiss to his lips. The sensation is soft and innocent. Gently, Tommy cups the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek tenderly. You nuzzle his nose as you pull away, eliciting amused smiles from the both of you. Part of you wishes this moment could last forever, but the self-doubt nibbling at your brain makes possibility of Tommy wanting to be with you seem unlikely.

“Why’d you ask if you could kiss me?” you wonder, finding it hard to believe that Tommy would suddenly think you wouldn’t be okay with it.

Tommy’s brow furrows together and he quickly averts his eyes, suddenly becoming fixated at a point on the ceiling. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he looked embarrassed.

“I just–” he starts with a sigh, running a hand through his chestnut waves, “I just don’t want this to be a one time thing, you know? You’re too important.”

Your heart pounds at his confession, pulse rushing noisily through your ears. When Tommy’s lips touched yours for the first time, you assumed that you wouldn’t be more than a one-night fling to him. Still, when you first saw Tommy that night, you swore you had felt something electric passing between the two of you; and now you know that you weren’t crazy after all. This was the first time you’d seen each other in years, but whatever you were experiencing now was real. More importantly, Tommy was experiencing it, too.

“I don’t think I want this to be a one time thing either.”

Masterlist

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asherjhemmings · 4 years

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( MATTHEW DADDARIO + CISMALE ) — Have you seen ASHER HEMMINGS ? This TWENTY-EIGHT year old is a MUSIC PRODUCER who resides in BROOKLYN. HE has been living in NYC for TEN YEARS, and is known to be OUTGOING and ALLURING, but can also be ARROGANT and SELF SERVING, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with SCATTERED SHEET MUSIC ON A MARBLE FLOOR and GOLDEN BAR CARTS LITTERED WITH EXPENSIVE LIQUOR. — ( haley, 21, she/her, triggers: eating disorders & self harm, est )

hello all !! i’m haley and i’ve been roleplaying since i was like eleven but i just came back to tumblr rp a year ago and that just so happened to be with my baby asher, so happy anniversary to him being a muse <3

i’ve boiled his bio down into some bullet points because it used to be so fuckin long and i’m sure nobody read it so here it is condensed into just the basics

basics:

name: asher julien hemmings

nicknames: ash, aj

age: 28

hometown: cambridge, ma

currently living: brooklyn, ny

education: high school diploma, degree in music production from nyu

birthday: april 13th

zodiac: aries

sexual orientation: bisexual

tattoos: ** doesn’t have a neck tattoo like alec in shadow hunters lol but he has mad tattoos, two full sleeves

aesthetic: pinterest

before nyc (tw: alcoholism, abuse, prison)

asher was what some holier than would call a miracle or what other would more harshly call an accidental pregnancy.

his father owned a low-life club in the city, known for mistreating employees and sneaky business behind the scene. some speculated that the operation of the club was to simple launder drug money, however that is a far different story.

his mother began working at the club around her twenty-seventh birthday and took on a position as an exotic dancer. she never quite had a set career path, often working odd jobs until it lead her to the intimidating world of stripping.

asher’s father took a liking to her, in the same way he took a liking to most females that got hired at the establishment whether it be a guest or an employee. however, unlike the other, he got her pregnant.

their relationship was toxic from the beginning. seeing as the relationship was forced for the sake of their child, they didn’t get along great. cops were constantly called to their apartment during 2am screaming matches, a lot of nights spent with one of them on the couch. but it wasn’t bad enough for one of them to leave, but it wasn’t good enough for one of them to say i love you.

asher was born on a rainy day in the spring and came into the world with a smile on his face. the nurses even joked he looked like a young frank sinatra with the way he slyly smirked.

but the smile didn’t always stay on his face. as he grew up, he saw the repercussions of staying with someone out of convenience rather than love. while his mother fell in love with him and hand crafted her maternal instincts to excellency, his father developed a love for whisky and coming home late from work.

despite what they once thought, a child didn’t fix things. in his father’s worsening condition, he began to get violent. it started off aggressively verbal until it matured into a far more physical act. at first it was just asher’s mother taking the brunt of the abuse. but as asher began to get older, it wasn’t uncommon for him to a victim on the lashing too.

it wasn’t until child protective services got involved after asher in seventh grade came to school with bruises that anyone was even aware of what he was enduring. asher’s father was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for domestic abuse & parental negligence.

the abuse had made asher timid moreso than it made him aggressive. so when he and his mother moved in with his grandparents, he was hesitant around his grandfather at first. his grandfather tried to form a relationship with him doing everything from playing board games to watching television or going mini-golfing. nothing seemed to be able to break through asher’s timid exterior.

this was until one day his grandfather caught him plucking at the keys on their grand piano and offered to teach a young asher how to play. music was the first thing they truly bonded over and within a year, asher was playing better than most people can in a lifetime.

once moving in with his grandparents, his mother wasn’t around much. she was always with her latest boyfriend or with her friends. asher didn’t mind though, he enjoyed cooking with his grandmother or strumming a guitar with his grandfather.

in high school, asher became a punk. he strived in all social groups due to his charisma. he excelled with the music kids, got in with the burnouts, even was cool enough to hang around with the popular kids. teachers loved him despite not being the best student. it was impossible to hate him.

his music teacher wrote him his letter of recommendation to study at nyu. he never saw himself going to college but he was excited to reinvent himself.

in nyc (tw: alcoholism)

during his years at nyu, asher began to reinvent himself. he was no long timid or the least bit shy. he was suave and slick, getting along with almost everyone he came into contact with.

unfortunately when some many people love you, after a while, it begins to get to your head. it was no surprise to people when asher began to get arrogant and cocky about his musical abilities. but one thing he had to fake confidence with was who he was as a person.

asher didn’t like himself, hence why new york was such a turning point for him. deep down, he believed he didn’t deserve love or his success. but when he started getting praise for his music producing abilites all of that changed.

classmates were intimidated by him and professors were undoubtedly impressed with the way in which he could perfect a beat or make a hit simply experimenting. asher liked the attention, lived for the applause he’d get at the end of a presentation. the love others had for him inflated his ego but also drove him to success.

after graduating at twenty-two, asher moved to an apartment in brooklyn and immediately began interning at a record label. he didn’t necessarily like what he was doing, truly believing that he was too good to be there most days.

but even as an intern he excelled and at the age of twenty-five, he bought his own music production company that houses over twenty studio spaces for artists to record.

in three years, not much has changed. except his bank account has quadrupled, he’s moved from a shoebox to a villa.. oh, and he’s developed a bit of a drinking problem.

drinking started off a social thing for asher. a few beers at a college party here and there seemed to be the beginning of it. then it was shots, and then getting black out at parties and not remembering much of anything. being surrounded by famous artists in his career only made this habit worse. he was drinking to wake up in the morning, in the studio, before bed and repeat.

nobody knows much about his blossoming alcoholism but it’s quickly beginning to fester and consume him. but he’s pretty good at hiding behind the tortured artist facade.

personality:

asher is the epitome of smiling and rolling your eyes in the same instance. he’s charming and goofy in the same line and doesn’t miss a beat.

super flirty. will flirt w u. and ur friend. and ur friend’s significant other. that’s just how he is.

loves verbal sparring, the certified king of it

why is he always smoking a cigarette? nobody knows

can be an asshole, will most likely get you to yell at him and then laugh and tell you that you’re the one being ridiculous

Indecisive af

a ride or die for his friends, literally would kill for a buddy

wanted connections:

ex girlfriend or boyfriend: asher’s been in nyc for ten years so he’s definitely tried to get serious ab someone by now. their relationship was for sure super toxic. let’s plot.

college roommate: someone who went to nyu and has watched asher’s success absolutely blow up. someone who pulled him drunk out of parties and threw him their dorm’s cold shower. give me disappointed friends vibes or a strained relationship !! anything !!

half-brother: as far as asher knows, he’s an only child. his father was an alcoholic who often had affairs with the girls who worked at his clubs in boston or were in the city on business. it is no surprise that something came from his late night rendezvous. asher’s not the warmest person, especially when it comes to his negligent father. will anything come of the brothers sharing the city streets? or will they simply turn a cold shoulder to one another?

assistant: asher is a famous music producer with his own recording studio in manhattan. he and his personal assistant spend a lot of time together. this connection is pretty open ended so asher could be their mentor if they’re musically inclined but they could also be confidants, best friends, frenemies, potential love interest, fwb, up to you!!

ride or die: this man needs to have some friends who put him in his place plz, he’s a whole ass disaster

music friends: self explanatory

fwb/ex-flings: this man is so flirty if he hasn’t messed around w u he’s messed around w someone u know. give me angst. give me missed connections. give me unrequited. give me friendzone. give me anything.

#about #codintro

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fromthadiningtable · 5 years

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Get A Room Part 4

(Guys, I am so sorry this took so long!! Part 5 will not take as long I promise lol, but I hope you guys like it!!)

Part one, two and three

Warnings: language and mentions of drugs, some angst??? (I think)

You only waited about five minutes or so like you had allotted yourself before you decided you would go out there. You hadn’t heard any screaming or shouting from inside the bathroom but in quite the opposite way, it had quieted down. This was unusual, Tommy’s ex girlfriend hadn’t been around in months but when she was, it was usually a scene. There would always be yelling involved and maybe some pushing and then a very dramatic exit. He always seemed to like girls like that and it made you wonder why he would pick you. You weren’t the typical girl he always picked, especially in personality.

Shaking the thoughts that were coming to your head, you gathered yourself in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom door. You were a little messy from the makeout session you’d just had with your best friend but it would pass. You noticed down the hallway that the party really had died down. A few people had left and then some were passed out on the living room floor or couch. You didn’t see Tommy or Ashley or any of the other boys anywhere so you decided to search around. You found Mick in one of the bedrooms, sound asleep and he looked peaceful. They had to be outside, you thought, surely they wouldn’t just leave without you. You headed out of the door and sure enough, there was Tommy smoking a cigarette on the balcony while Nikki and Vince were trying to calm Ashley down below on the sidewalk. Tommy seems emotionless, taking long drags on his cigarette and observing the scene below. Ashley was looking up at him while talking to Nikki and Vince, daggers in her eyes and venom in her words.

After a moment, Vince rolls his eyes and steps away from the situation. “There’s no arguing with this chick man.” He scoffs and heads back inside the apartment.

“No, you know what Nikki? He always fucking does this. He always acts like I don’t know what I’m talking about and I’m just a crazy bitch, but he knows what he did.” Ashley spat out the words and was still eyeing Tommy. You realized there was no commotion in the house because they had taken her outside to avoid a scene. But as her tone rose and she grew angrier at the lack of Tommy’s reaction, neighbors started coming outside to see what was going on.

“Fuck,” Tommy muttered to himself as he noticed as well.

“Ashley, you have to go home.” Nikki said to her, not wanting the cops to get called for the second time this month.

“Why? Why does everyone always come to his rescue? He’s not some little baby like everyone thinks he is.” She was escalating quickly as Tommy just continued to stare into the distance, ignoring every word she said.

“Look I hear you, but bottom line you have to go home. It’s late man and we’ve got neighbors.” Nikki said and was handling himself very well considering it was like talking to a brick wall when it came to Ashley.

You just kept looking from person to person, not really saying anything in fear of any backlash or being dragged into the argument. After a few more digs and last words she finally stopped and headed down the street to her ride and you were all relieved that she didn’t go any further.

“Where do you find these chicks man?” Nikki asks, and bumps into you a little as he also headed inside.

Tommy smiled a little to himself and shook his head. You knew this fighting sometimes gave him a little thrill and he would usually have a shit eating grin on his face about it. He was a little a more subtle tonight and you wondered why. You scooted over on the balcony to get closer to him and ask for a cigarette.

He almost read your mind and pulled out his pack and put it next to you. You took one out and he had his lighter out ready to light it for you. You smiled a little to yourself and allowed him to light the cigarette for you. It was a small sign of chivalry, a sweet one at that.

“So, what was all that about?” You finally asked him after the moments of silence that had just occurred.

Tommy took in a deep breath and exhaled and finally told you. “Basically she’s pregnant and she’s saying it’s mine but we haven’t slept together in almost 7 months. So, it’s not mine and she’s crazy.”

You laughed a little at his response, he was so simplistic about it and genuine. It did concern you a little though. Sure, Ashley was crazy but crazy enough to falsely accuse him of being a father? It couldn’t be. However if what Tommy was saying was true, she’d be much further along in a pregnancy. You shook these thoughts because from their reactions, even Nikki and Vince didn’t seem convinced of what she was saying either.

“Yeah, you really know how to pick them.” You joke and take another drag from the cigarette in your hand.

Tommy gets much closer to you and whispers in your ear. “You seem to be forgetting what just happened in the bathroom.” His lips are barely ghosting the outside of your ear, painstakingly sitting there making no contact with your skin.

“I assumed you forgot.” You turned to him and smiled and then leaned in to kiss him. He pulled your arm to pull you closer to him and you put your arms around his neck. Your lips meet and it feels even better than it did before, he slips his tongue inside of your mouth and allow both of you to explore for a few minutes.

Tommy pulled away all of a sudden. “Wait wait,” He says and you’re already panicking at the loss of his lips on yours. “We have to keep this from the guys - for now.” He seemed worried they would walk out any moment and catch the two of you. You understood where he was coming from but it also felt like he wanted to hide it in a bad way.

“Just for now, okay? Let us get these next couple of shows out of the way before we tell them.” He assures you, noticing his previous words stung you a little bit. You nodded and decided it might be best, you didn’t want the other guys thinking you would distract Tommy during these crucial next few shows they had coming up. You also didn’t feel like dealing with their reactions to what happened when you were still trying to decide how you felt about it. Of course there were no regrets or bad feelings but more so some confusion and worry about what would happen now.

Tommy sensed your mood changing around this whole thing and rested his hand on your arm. He leaned in and gave you one more kiss on the lips. “It’ll be alright, I promise.” He says to you and you’re more relaxed after. He typically never promised if he didn’t mean it. You would just go with the flow and hope for the best and it would probably all work out.

The next night, the boys had a show at a popular club on the strip. These next few shows they had were important for their career. It could make or break them and you made the time to be there and show your support for your best friend. It was weird having this little secret between the two of you. Tommy would give you certain looks throughout the day that were hard to decode. It was usually followed by a smirk or a twinkle in his eyes. Whatever he did, it was making your heart flutter like you hadn’t felt in the longest time. It was surprising to you but also a good feeling and a welcome one.

Mötley Crüe did amazing, as per usual, you thought to yourself. The set list they had prepared was one of their best and they all used their talents and created art like people had never heard or seen before. You were so proud of all of them and watched from backstage as you practically beamed. Tommy would occasionally glance at you while drumming his heart out and give you a smile. Before their encore song, Vince ran back stage and stumbled slightly while getting to the dressing room. You noticed he must be drunk or high. Either way he was making a wreck of the dressing room, looking for god knows what.

“What the hell are you doing? Get back out there!” The stage manager looked frustrated as he yelled at Vince from the door way.

“Vince!” You called out, trying to get him back on stage before the audience got too antsy. He still didn’t listen so you went to the dressing room to try and drag him out.

“I can’t find my shit.” He said to you when you walked in. The drawers and the chairs and everything in the dressing room was strewn about without any care at all. You still didn’t know what he was looking for specifically but whatever it was, was the most important thing in the world to him at the moment.

“Just what exactly are we looking for?” You asked him, growing frustrated that he didn’t seem to care about the show having to go on.

He leaned in close to you so the stage manager wouldn’t hear. “It’s coke. I just need a little bump before the rest of the show.” He said quietly. You smacked him on the arm. “You need to get back out there! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

He looked back at you like a five year old who just gotten one of his toys taken away. “Now!” You said again, urgently so he would get the picture. Before you could even blink, Vince had his hand on the back of your head and he was kissing you. You immediately pulled away. You didn’t even know what had just happened but all you could do was stare back at him with your mouth open.

“I’ve been thinking about that night at Nikki’s, when we were on the couch,” he said, his eyes were hooded over and he seem slightly impaired. You were growing furious, at what he had just done and his need to waste time right now.

“I’m going to give you two minutes to get back out there before I freak out.” You say back to him, your cheeks growing red and the anger in your stomach eating at you. Why would he think that was okay? And now this was a secret you had to keep from Tommy or rather just tell him and have him hate you again.

Vince huffed once again and left the dressing room. The stage manager followed him out and you stood there in complete shock at the kiss he had just placed on your lips. What a complete idiot, you thought to yourself. Sure you guys had flirted maybe a week ago and you showed some interest but you thought Tommy had gotten the message across to him. The alcohol and the drugs probably gave Vince some courage to do it as well. Regardless, you were anxious about how it would go over with Tommy, if you would even tell him. It didn’t feel right at all.

After the show, everyone gathered at a local bar for some drinks. It was a bar not far from the club and the inside was dark and smoky with a band playing on a small stage. The bar had crazy colored lights behind it and the bartenders were working on drinks steadily. You felt weird being with the boys and the fact that Vince had just tried to make out with you back stage. You were going to have to tell Tommy but there was still the option of keeping it a complete secret. Luckily, Vince had picked up a girl after the show so he wasn’t going to be anywhere near you for the rest of the night. However Tommy would be and that kiss was all you could think of. You felt so guilty even though you didn’t welcome it, but you hated keeping secrets from Tommy especially when it was something he requested you not do at all.

You all headed to a round table on the side of the room with some chairs and sat around. A waitress headed over shortly and grabbed a drink order from everyone. You desperately wanted to crawl away from all of them and decide what you would do. You could never pass up a good time with the boys though, and you hoped maybe this would just distract you for the time being. Drinks were over to the table soon enough and you just continued to observe while everyone had a good time talking and discussing the next show and things they can do differently. Tommy noticed you seemed to be out of it and put his hand on your knee under the table, out of sight from everyone else. You smiled to yourself and hoped no one noticed.

After a few more drinks, the party was really kicking up. Vince had disappeared with the girl mentioned earlier, Mick was fading slightly but continued to give witty remarks to Nikki and Tommy who were coming up with names for their first studio album when the time came. The names they came up with were ridiculous and it took everything in Mick and also in you, to not absolutely roast every single suggestion they had. Tommy continued to touch your knee and your thigh, whatever he could conceal but also have some sort of contact on you. This secret was one you didn’t feel terrible about. In fact, it was kind of exciting that you both had these feelings and had done things the others didn’t know about.

“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.” Tommy said in your ear and told the others he was heading there and would be back soon. You stayed in your seat and chatted with Nikki about some album names you had come up with and how they were ten times better than what he had come up with. After five minutes had passed, you announced that you also were going to the restroom and would be right back. It wasn’t noticeable to the point where they picked up on it thankfully. You grew anxious, knowing Tommy wanted to be physical but all you could think about was the Vince issue.

The bathrooms were thankfully single person and one of the two was locked. You knocked and waited for Tommy to open it. He cracked it open slightly and seeing it was you, he pulled you in and immediately had you up against the door kissing you. You had missed his lips entirely too much and your tongues mingling with each other felt amazing.

“What is it with us and bathrooms?” You asked him, breaking the kisses for a moment. He laughed to himself and then went right back to giving your lips some attention, then moving to your neck and your jawline. You were sighing with pleasure once again but then the thought of Vince’s lips on yours came to your mind. The guilt in the pit of your stomach became more evident the more Tommy’s hands and lips roamed.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it in. You had had a few drinks and this didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair to you or to him, and you had to stay something whether the timing was appropriate or not.

“Vince kissed me tonight, back stage before the last song. He just did it I swear, we weren’t flirting and” you stopped and noticed Tommy had instantly pulled away as soon as he heard the first few words you said. You looked down at the floor, away from the heat already coming out of his eyes. He was either going to flip or completely leave and never speak to you again.

“What?” He said, wanting clarification. The look on his face said it all. He was furious and you knew he was allowed to be. You hadn’t told him sooner and it was something that had made him upset before. No explanation you could give him would fix it at this point.

Tags: @getthefckouttahere @stevenandsam @dylanobandposts21 @anon-1112 @switchthewitch @sighsophiia @mainly-me @bandzrus @divaanya @evrsncnewyork @yoinks-i-dont-feel-so-good @catsoo-12 @whydoilooklikekurtcobain @supernaturalvikingwhore @vintageratdoctor @thatbandchick39 @chasityquinn @swoopygorl @shamelessobsessions @itsametaphorbriansblog @juliarose21 @whiskey-a-go-go @anxious-diabetic @ziggysstardustz @thanks2pete @captainloki1 @tommyfuckinlee @itssaje @littlesunnymoon @imamazzellhoe @killer-queen-ofrhye @slowandangry @momothepeachgirl @itsharleyalb @ecstaticqueenbri @wheresmyvodkabitch @madsthegroupie @itsmotleyfuckingcrue @caos18blog @pandem--onium @annabeth-14 @langdonsdemon @rxsesinjune @machinegunkiki @sisterchristixn @luv4fandoms @yesloverboy @solohqrry @she-likes-dead-flowers @leterscam @kennisababe @twistnet @kat-976 @jongkey-1221

#personal #writings #the dirt #the dirt imagine #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #get a room #vince neil #mötley crüe #nikki sixx #mick mars #80s #machine gun kelly #colson baker

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jclie · 4 years

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— && guests may mistake me as ( elizabeth olsen ), but really i am ( jolie madison + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 7/29/1992 ). i am a ( musician ) and would like to stay in suite ( 314 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( driven, audacious, & charismatic ), but i can also be ( perfectionistic, reticent & self-sabotaging ) at times. personally, i like to ( paint, hike, try new recipes & sing karaoke ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( chai sugar cookies ) to have in my suite.

hi everyone! i’m red, and the only excuse i have for this dropping so late is that Work Sucks and has held me up, but i am here and ready to love u all! rlly, what better to do with the remaining bits of summer ( and being awake, tbh ) than join this super cute group and put my intro post together? so yes, here is the 411 on jolie, with a more *~cohesive~* bio and stats page on their way — i am so excited to get to know all of your muses and begin interacting! i promise i do not bite so if you’re feeling brave, pop over in the ims, or, just wait me out, because i’m sure i’ll be appearing in them soon enough :~)

general info

full name: jolie drew madison

nicknames: j, jo, jojo (calling her this is a bit of a death sentence unless you have explicit permission), mads

date of birth: july twenty-ninth, 1992 (27)

zodiac: leo

sexual orientation: bisexual

birthplace: chicago, illinois

occupation: musician

hogwarts house: slytherin

mbti: enfj

suite #: 314

tw: drug use

past

born on a wednesday in chicago, illinois to a set of parents who had a very “informal” relationship to say the least — to make a complicated situation as cut and dry as possible, jolie’s parents were best friends with benefits. her mom wound up pregnant and decided to keep the baby. instead of jumping to some rash decision like getting married solely for the sake of their child, they decided to simply remain friends and split custody in the best way they knew how that didn’t require a mediator in the form of a family court judge. her parents remained close friends (and still are) once jolie was born; custody was weirdly split with jolie spending the majority of her time with her mom. they were an unconventional sort of family but a family nonetheless. dad does something with numbers (yes, think chandler bing), and mom is a local business owner.

as a kid, jolie never knew a stranger, and therefore had no trouble making friends once she hit school age. she was the kid who never found her niche group or “clique” because her feet were wet in several of them. school was not a miserable time for her. she had her friends, was a solid a/b student. jolie was a big perfectionist though, it not uncommon for her to beat herself up over something incredibly minute and self-sabotaging herself as punishment or because she didn’t know how to adequately process her feelings of anxiousness — she’d procrastinate, cut people off or drive them away, things of that nature.

music was always in her life, but it was a very casual thing in her world, situated on a backburner. it was something that she was able to bond over with her dad more so than her mom; her dad was a massive music junkie, loved sharing his favorite songs with her, bought her her first vinyl player when she was twelve and supplied her with every album under the sun, whether it was one she wanted or one of his favorites or just one he thought she might enjoy. she was in dance classes as a preschooler (this was an epic fail, because not even her rhythm could save her from the generally awkward disaster she is whenever she dances) and took piano lessons in elementary school, but she didn’t love either? she felt very restricted when it came to formal lessons, and almost needed the freedom to explore and learn it on her own terms — she ended up teaching herself guitar on her dad’s guitar on the weekends she spent at his place. there was also the 6 month stint her junior year of high school when she and some friends started a garage band (which jolie represses to a certain degree because the embarrassment it invokes is on another level) but it was mostly just an idea formulated from boredom and was something to pass the time, nothing really serious.

jolie found herself at a bit of a crossroads after her graduation. most of her friends were off to college but college did not seem like the kind of environment for her. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself or her life, but she knew she had to do something. so she pretty much copied and pasted what one of her close friends was doing at the time, decided to go to northwestern and share an apartment with her and pray that something would speak to her along the way. spoiler alert: nothing did. her first year quickly fizzled and faded for her and most of her time was spent going to parties, embracing the social scene, the like. nothing of real educational value.

she was still fucking around when it came to music; she’d met some people in one of her creative writing classes (the only class that she legitimately finished and enjoyed) and would go to open mic nights or other gigs around town. never meeting a stranger meant jolie was good at networking, making friends with other musicians — the more she spent time immersed in the world, the more she felt compelled towards music. she began writing songs that weren’t just the product of teenage angst (see: that awful high school band), even took a few music classes at northwestern.

by the time she hit her junior year, she was over classes and was pretty much only taking filler classes still, wasting her money while she bar tended at one of the bars close by. but she’d never felt more creatively charged; she was putting her nose to the grindstone in writing songs, recording songs in her bedroom so she wouldn’t wake up her roommates, playing gigs on her nights off work literally anywhere that would take her, and using those new-er friendships to her advantage. she had gained some local traction but things really didn’t explode until she started posting original songs online and got contacted by a few record labels. jolie was hesitant to sign with anyone but she got one of her friends in pre-law to help her look over contracts and pretend to be her manager and eventually signed. subsequently, she dropped out of college and went to work on the music thing full time.

from 21-23, jolie was pretty much doing nothing but playing festivals and clocking in hours at studios. most of her time was spent on the road and she absolutely loved it — she loved the music festival atmosphere, loved the crowds, loved meeting other bands and fans. she was pretty much touring on the few songs she had released, covers, and unreleased tracks from a wip, but it worked for her and it worked for the fans. she released her first album, ultraviolet on her 23rd birthday, and hit the road again.

jolie missed her “college” life with the parties and socialization at her fingertips, so she started elbowing her way into that scene while she was on tour — at first, it wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, but jolie’s limits were very fluid. being on tour was draining and the perfectionist in her would always find something to berate herself about, and getting out of her head was the only way that she felt she could truly enjoy the whirlwind success that was happening to her. the drugs started as a one-time thing, just to try it, and then she was using regularly, and then it got to a point where she couldn’t go more than an hour without a line of coke. the drugs stripped away a lot of what made her jolie and left her with a more miserable, grouchier version of herself where her highs were almost normal and likable and the lows were hell to be around.

she came off of ultraviolet’s tour and essentially jumped right back into the studio (she was beginning to break through in mainstream music, with her last promotional single off ultraviolet hitting mainstream radio and doing fairly well) for album #2. it was finished and ready to go, but by that point, the drug use had gotten to an all-time high and the constant turning a blind eye to it from her team was no longer possible. she ended up od’ing and that was it — there was an intervention in the hospital room, and it was off to rehab for jolie. album got postponed and she basically fell off the radar.

she didn’t really make a “comeback” until she was knocking on 26′s doorstep, and by that point she’d been in rehab, getting sober, and then laying low for nearly two years. by the time she was releasing her first single for the new album cycle, she’d all but scrapped the record she’d made before rehab and had something else put together entirely. she released wonderland, which did very, very well. she toured for it and it was wildly different than anything she’d done prior — venues were bigger, more fans, just a whole different circus all around.

probably the one thing she was more proud of than the music was her sobriety, and going on two years of being sober, not much else was important to her. she knew had a pretty black and white view of was good for her and what wasn’t, so after the tour wrapped, she decided to come home. she never pegged herself for the type to get “homesick” because her spirit was very much the wandering type, but she knew she needed to get out of la and nyc. back to chicago it was — which is how we get to the malnati.

present

she’s in what she’d aptly describe as “professional limbo” — she’s not actively working on any one project, she’s just kind of floating until she can find something to tether herself to, whether it’s a single song or an album or something else that appears on her radar. she’s just taking things easy for the time being.

career wise, think marina, l*na — more of a cult favorite than a mainstream artist. not going to get mobbed when she goes out and about, able to fly under the radar for the most part. as far as her music goes, i don’t necessarily know if i’ll claim any one artist’s discography and adopt as her own; in my head, jolie’s alt pop. think somewhere along the lines of hayley williams, st. vincent, tove lo, splash of the 1975.

personality wise at this point in her life: will charm the pants off of just about anyone she comes into contact with. flirty. a little goofy, hella sarcastic. there’s method to her madness even if no one else gets it. is still a little guarded when it comes to talking about herself. doesn’t mind talking about what’s happened to her but when it comes to the feelings and emotions as to why those things happened, she shuts down. it’s why she’s a musician: why talk about your feelings when you could just write them into a song and pretend they don’t exist beyond that, lmao. is the passive aggressive type, bottles things up and simmers.

being in the kitchen and cooking has been a tactile sort of therapy for her, especially in her hiatus years. she loves trying new recipes, baking at random (all) hours, sometimes likes to pretend she’s on an episode of master chef. she’s a dork, your honor.

has a thing for polaroids. she has a blank moleskine notebook that she has put through a total ringer, gluing polaroids and other little mementos onto pages as a journal of sorts.

has a stick and poke tattoo (among other professional ones) on her ribcage that she gave herself when she was sixteen. it’s a tiny smiley face.

her middle name came from her dad’s middle name (andrew).

if you want someone to go out with you at night (or during the day, she’s not picky) and just aimlessly wander around the city, letting things find you, she’s your girl. she loves a good adventure.

i headcanon jolie as predominantly dirty blonde/brunette lizzie? but she is also the type who has ruined her hair over the years over all the impromptu dying so... welcome to close your eyes and pretend hour.

plot ideas

this is by no means a comprehensive list of plots, just stuff off the top of my head that i’d like to see? again, i promise i don’t bite, so pls hmu if one of these appeals to you or if you just wanna brainstorm, i live for that shit!!

jolie’s a chicago native, went to college here, so 👀

meredith to her cristina — basically her best friend (not gender specific, either) who tells it to jolie like it is, doesn’t mind if she laments about how the world sucks every now and again, the person she’s calling if she needs help with a body

physically and/or emotionally, somebody who checks in on jolie and that she checks in on as well. we love a solid support system

exes — jolie’s a little bit (a lot of bit) of a player?? so i’d love to see exes that maybe didn’t end too hot, ex fwb or ex flings that never made it official, people she ghosted, exes that don’t want to get back together but don’t like seeing each other with anyone else, anything under that sun

jolie also is a Lowkey (read: highkey) commitment-phobe, but i’d rlly love for her to maybe have an ex that she was so In Love with that she was willing to push through it bc she saw herself with them forever..... and then, for reasons tbd, it ended, and it absolutely crushed jolie

someone who, on the occasion of needing to scratch an itch, is very good about getting the job done. it’s casual sex. there are zero romantic feelings involved, there is no getting jealous when the other person finds a relationship, the two are just good friends who have seen (and will probably continue to see) each other naked #yeehaw

maybe someone who was at one of jolie’s gigs when she was still playing bars that she bought a drink and kept in touch with or smth? or someone she met when she was still predominately playing small sets at festivals? idk i’m rambling someone stop me

a “muse”??? like, someone jolie is fascinated with / inspired by and she finds herself writing songs about / for

gimme someone who’s like an acquaintance at best, they’ve maybe got mutual friends and therefore they hang out a bit but they’re always arguing with one another for whatever reason (they both probably annoy each other) but they’ve got mad sexual tension going on? maybe they act on it, maybe they don’t, but either way, they lowkey enjoy the bantering and being at one another’s throats even if they act otherwise

jolie is a night owl, so... gimme someone who she can turn up at their room at some unholy hour (or that turns up at her room at said unholy hour) and watch a movie with or make a mess of the kitchen from fixing a premature breakfast

maybe someone who knew jolie when she was not in a good place?? and things are still v much tense / unresolved between them for whatever reason

and stuff for the event omg PLS *makes grabby hands*

#malnatiintro #malnatiooc #drugs tw #tw drugs #not sure what to tag so here's ALL the tags lmao

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crvmsdecorum · 4 years

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"ɪ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ."

( nina dobrev, 28, female, she/her) Have you seen MILENA WASHINGTON around ? I hear they’re an CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATOR who can sometimes be VINDICTIVE & DEVIOUS. But I also heard they can be DIPLOMATIC & VENTURESOME, if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around THE PINT in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright ! ( emma. )

tw: mentions of rape, tw: rape, tw: death, tw: torture, tw: murder, tw: blood.

Meet Milena Zariyah Dashkov ; you and the citizens of Chicago know her as Milena Zariyah Dashkov Washington, I know mouthful but when someone addressees her by last name it is by her adopted surname.

She was brought into the world on January 1st in the year 1992 to Evangelia Dashkov (nee Anderiko) and her husband Alexei Dashkov. Milena was their second born child and first born daughter.

Due to her parents she is a mixture of both Bulgarian and Russian ancestry with being Jewish from both side of the family. Though her mother practiced the religion more so than Alexei did.

The Dashkov family was a loving family. They had a white picket fence, various flowers blooming from Mrs. Dashkov’s garden, and occasionally the kids would be playing a sport out in the front. Sure they lived in the rough parts of Bulgaria but they wouldn’t trade it for the world. They did what they had to in order to make the small cabin a home.

Though not long after turning five is when tragedy struck the family home. The ball hadn’t been dropped long into the New Year and Milena was already tucked into her bed for the night when gun shots were heard outside. She doesn’t remember much, but Milena remembered be in her pregnant mother’s arms as she watched her older brother, Adrian (9) and their father assemble what little weapons that was stashed throughout the house.

Evangelia had faith in her family and that faith in her God that they will survive even though her gut said otherwise. She ended up tucking Milena safely away in an air vent that gave her the perfect view of her little family with her mother ordering the young girl to stay quiet no matter what. Just as she was going to ask her mother if it’s safe to get out is when the front door got busted down by a small group of milita members (three) from the Bulgarian People’s Army -- or at least former members.

She watched as they shot Adrian point blank with no warning before tearing through the house. It took two of the men to disarm her father who put up to a fight. They ended up tying him to the chair after they’ve stripped him of his shirt and Evangelia? What they were about to do to her was far worse.

Milena watched in horror as the three took turns in harming her mother, violating her in front of Alexei. Whenever her father would yell or anything one of the men would end up shutting him up with a hard punch though it kept on to the point they began to use other means in shutting him up. One of them ended up embedding a blade into Alexei’s thigh for ‘disrupting the pleasure’.

‘Moeto Sladko’, is what Evangelia kept muttering through out it all before saying each time close your eyes. The men thought she was referring to Alexei but oh no, she was speaking soothing words to her daughter one last time.

It was too late though for what Milena had witnesses is something that will stick with her for as long as she can remember. By the time the sun rose the men were gun and her family? They were dead.

It wasn’t until about two days later when a Priest with some grave diggers came into the family home. Milena recognized him and ran straight to the man of God. He held onto the orphan and didn’t care she was stained in the blood of her fallen loved ones. Not long after the Priest had brought Milena to safe grounds he placed the orphan up for adoption with the Nuns looking after her.

Let me tell you it was a long and hard year for Milena. Food was scarce among the children and rations at one point for a while went down to only once a day. The orphans she was among were like Milena -- war orphans. She didn’t think she would open up to others after what she went through, but many of them had went through similar things and they all bonded over it. In time the three Milena became closest too were like family to her.

One day that all changed. It was a sunny warm afternoon and all the children were playing outside and of course all of them were on their best behavior as they heard several couples from America were looking to adopt. This was the Priest way of protecting the children and give them a future outside of the country. Milena? She honestly didn’t care for she had her own little family with three other wayward orphans.

As if fate were to have it though, Milena caught the eyes of a very wealthy couple that hailed from Chicago: Mr. & Mrs. Washington. How you ask? Simple. They watched the woman trample a school yard bully for stealing her ‘younger brother’s’ rations and became heartfelt even more so when they witness her give the younger orphan her ration as well. That is what they wanted in a child and they got her.

Oh let me tell you the transition from Bulgaria to America was harsh on Milena and to make it worse she knew very little English. When arriving to the Washington home she met several other children there. Milena didn’t know how to act in this new country and often kept telling herself their language was funny. She tried her best to learn the language on her own but eventually the frustration of it and the tutor the family hired made it only worse for her which pushed Milena to grow increasingly quiet. So quiet she basically went fell blown mute.

It wasn’t until about four months into this is when Sloan one day sat down with the wayward orphan and tried to talk to the confused little girl. She even went so far as in buying a Bulgarian dictionary and butchered Milena’s native tongue by asking if she can teach her English. What was her response you say? The way she spoke it made Milena giggle -- an actual one and it beyond shocked Sloan. She told the oldest Washington she would like that before saying leave the Bulgarian language to the professionals.

This was the first time Milena welcomed anyone of her new family into her heart and it would be a while before she did again.

Fast forward to a few years later to where Milena is 9 years old and Zoe had recently become adopted into the family. She was still quiet though she would hold small conversations in English but Milena still had a long way to go in learning it.

Many believe it was Zoe that made Milena open up more and fully embrace learning the English language which part of that is true, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Since she adoption the Bulgarian had been sending letters to the Priest that rescued her (of course writing in Bulgarian) and as if it were a coincidence, a letter arrived a week after the new kid and the Man of God held up a promise he made to Milena that night. Her family’s murderers were dead and now properly her family can be at peace. This...this right here is what lead to Milena fully opening up to her new family. Eventually she became Zoe’s partner in crime and oh the trouble those two got in together all while Zoe helped Sloan teach the full English language.

Over the next few years Milena had blossomed into an intelligent young woman who had a thing for parties but managed to keep straight A’s throughout it all. When it came time to graduation she made not only the top ten percent but Valedictorian as well. On the night of her speech she did something unethical but it had to be done. “This paper lantern you see here before you all is for the Seniors who tragically passed away back in December. It is also for those who cannot be here with the graduates today to see this milestone in our lives such as my own biological family who suffered a terrible fate when I was but a child. This paper lantern is for all of them.” Many people were shocked that she had done something like this for she ended up having a reputation of a party girl with a forever resting bitch face. Milena showed to her class that she did have a heart despite it being buried under the thick ice she grew from the things she went through.

After graduation Milena decided to attend Harvard where she gotten an acceptance letter from the school. She didn’t want to leave home but Milena made a promise to keep in touch with all the Washingtons.

Let us flash forward to Milena being about to become 21 years old and having the time of her life. It’s a New Years Eve party on campus and she was beyond drunk. How can she not? It was about to be her birthday and like her fifth birthday this one will be one she won’t forget and it isn’t because she is now legal to drink. Milena became a victim of a date rape drug (GHB). She doesn’t remember much of that night which amnesia is a side effect of it sadly. Not wanting to stain the Washington name and feel like a burden, Milena kept quiet about the whole ordeal when she went home not long after.

While she was with her family Milena came through and remembered who it was behind this horrible fate. Ending her trip early in seeing her family the Bulgarian flew back to her college and she waited. During all of this she switched her career and went into their Criminal Justice program and oh how she thrived in there. It is what lead her to becoming a CSI Investigator. Through this and learning how to cover her tracks Milena used her connections in Bulgaria thanks to the Priest and a week prior to her graduating the man responsible suffered a ‘terrible’ fate.

Despite all the trauma she endured, Milena still did her best to look on the bright side of things but its hard. To the world and those who isn’t in her heart nor family are lead to believe she is a cold hearted person with sarcastic remarks -- that’s only the half of her personality. With her family she will do anything for them and risk it all.

After graduating college with a bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice, Milena wanted to excel even more and starting studying aboard in Barcelona where eventually she got a Masters. She ended up landing a job as a CSI and during her time there she went back to school to earn an associates degree in Linguistics. She might as well get paid for the languages she has come to learn.

Unknown to her at the time Milena caught the eye of two government agencies: CIA & FBI. They both wanted her to come on board for them and be a Special Agent in Linguistics and even sweeten the deal when she claimed she enjoyed her work in Science even more so. She thought long and hard about the deal, I won’t lie and Milena honestly thought about taking the deal until one night she had a horrible nightmare. The nightmare involved the Washingtons dying a bloody death much like her biological family. This made her pack up her bags in Barcelona, decline both offers and bought a one way ticket to Chicago.

Personality;; Milena can be a cold person and in fact she is especially with her RBF, but she can be a caring and kind person also. Though to see that side? You’d have to be someone that is a Washington or someone she cares about and that circle is very small. You can usually find Milena giving sarcastic comments and at times be a smart ass, she doesn’t even feel sorry about it. She can also be very blunt and most of the times it comes off harsh.

Fun Facts;; Milena is fluent in several languages (Bulgarian, English, French, Spanish, Russian and Italian). She learned Bulgarian and Russian from her parents, French and English from the Washingtons, and learned the other two languages during her time in Spain. Though she is still learning Italian.

Wanted Connections;; enemies, former flings, friends, law enforcement buddies, former flame(s), etc. If you think Milena fits it then I am down!

#crimson.intro #about milena #tw: mentions of rape #tw: rape #tw: death #tw: torture #tw: murder #tw: blood

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

Text

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 50 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 50

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings: Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

Nikki and (Y/n) had come back home a few weeks later. Ziggy and Jett happy to have their mommy and daddy back home. With a smile Nikki had let (Y/n) sleep in while he wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed.

Ziggy and Jett followed him downstairs, ready to catch anything that he might have dropped. He was going into the study tomorrow, so today was all about editing photos and spending time with his favorite model. He heard (Y/n) waking up as he started to get things finished up.

“Tada!” he smiled and placed the tray on her lap, “breakfast in bed.” Ziggy barked, like he was telling him good job. Nikki carried it upstairs to where (Y/n) was sitting up, looking around.

“Nikki? What’s all this?” She asked, watching him.

“A very special breakfast for my very hot and sexy wife,” he smiled. “I am never going to get tired of saying that.” he chuckled as he kissed her.

“I’m not feeling very hot and sexy this morning.” She laughed, kissing him. “Thank you though. It all smells so good.”

“I can make you some soup later?” he looked at her and placed his hand on her forehead. “I hope it’s nothing serious.” he kissed her and smiled. “I’m just editing our photos today. Some of them are really beautiful.” he caressed her cheek. “But I don’t think all of them need to be seen by others, do you?”

“Well, it depends. Do you want everyone to see that photo of you naked on the beach with just your bass covering you?” (Y/n) laughed. “Or do you want them to see me spread out on the bed, completely naked?” She winked at him.

“See me with the bass is very artistic,” he smiled. “But you on the bed…. That’s material for me on tour.” he winked. (Y/n) smiled and kissed him.

“I think you have a lot of photos like that.” She took a bite of her food. “God Nikki, this is so good! Guess you don’t need me to cook for you anymore, do you?”

“We can take turns,” he smiled and stole a bite. “Ok, I need to head to the dark room. “If you need me just call through the intercom ok?”

“Okay honey. I can’t wait to see them.” She smiled at him. He gave her one more kiss before going to the dark room. All the honeymoon and wedding photos were there, as well as the night at Disneyland.

As he developed the pictures from Disneyland he looked at the pictures of the fireworks. He raised his eyebrow and chuckled. She was there the night they went just before the wedding. He shook his head and finished developing the pictures before hearing the phone ringing in the house.

“Hello?” (Y/n) answered as she got the phone.

“Hey girl!” Vanessa’s voice came through the phone. “Need a girls day you in? Vince is driving me crazy!”

“What’s he doing?” (Y/n) laughed. “Yeah, a girls day sounds like fun. Just you and me or do you want me to invite Athena?”

“He’s basically driving me nuts about this kid that keeps growing,” Vanessa sighed and, “I can’t fit into any wedding dresses and I’m freaking out and he’s freaking out and I just need a day.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.” She smiled when she saw Nikki come in. “Want the husband to deal with the fiance?”

“Please!” Vanessa begged.

Nikki tilted his head at his wife and raised his eyebrow, “everything ok?”

“Okay Nessa, I’ll be over soon.” (Y/n) hung up. “Vanessa said Vince is driving her nuts, she’s mad she can’t fit into wedding dressing being pregnant, and she wants a girls day. And she wants you to deal with Vince.” She wrapped her arms around Nikki. “Sorry babe. I thought today would be a day for the two of us.” She rested her head on his chest. Her eyes were a little heavy.

“Go have fun with your friend,” Nikki smiled. “I’ll talk to Vince and make sure he stops being an ass.” Nikki kissed her and smiled. “We can head over there together and then go our separate ways for a bit. Then we can all just have a nice couples dinner once everyone is nice and calm.”

“I love you.” (Y/n) whispered, kissing him. “Let me go get ready.”

Nikki put ziggy and jett in their favorite room in the house and waited for (Y/n) by the door. He looked down at his ring and smiled. It felt good to have it there and he loved being with her. (Y/n) came out a bit later, wearing that old Aerosmith shirt and a pair of leggings.

“Ready?” She asked, getting her purse.

“Tease,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her neck.

“Me? A tease? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She giggled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nikki said as he put on his sunglasses as they got in the car and drove off to Vince’s.

“Babe, you’re not that big!” They heard Vince say as they got to the door.

“But I’m big?” Vanessa asked. (Y/n) looked over at Nikki, wondering what they had gotten themselves into. (Y/n) rang the doorbell and waited a moment for Vanessa or Vince to answer the door.

“Thank fucking god!” Vanessa smiled as she looked at (Y/n). “Mr. big shot here, apparently thinks me being the size of a house boat is perfectly fine to walk down the aisle!”

“You’re beautiful baby!” Vince called back to her. “No matter what!”

"I'm fat and you know it!" Vanessa growled. "I can't believe I let you get me pregnant! I can't even fit into a wedding dress and it feels like I have two of them in here!"

“Nessa...are you having twins?” (Y/n) asked softly. “And you look beautiful in wedding dresses sweetie.”

"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow but I swear it feels like there are two in there!" She sighed and rubbed hey back.

Nikki looked to Vince, "what the hell did you say to her man?"

“I just suggested if she was that worried about fitting into the dress, we could just have a little ceremony to get the license, or we could push it back until after the baby comes.” Vince shrugged. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I just didn’t want her to stress herself out.”

"Dude, that's actually not a bad idea," Nikki looked at (Y/n). "Ness, a ceremony for the license is nice. You don't have to worry about family and stress and…" Vanessa turned and glared at him.

“Oh no.” (Y/n) whispered. “Hey Nessa, why don’t we go do something?” She really didn’t want to watch her best friend scream at her husband.

"Yes that sounds like fun," she looked at (Y/n). Nikki looked at his wife and brought her close.

"I think Vince and I are going to surprise her. We're going to get everyone together and get them hitched. They can always have a party later. Just talk to her?" Nikki smiled.

“I will.” (Y/n) kissed him. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Once the girls left Nikki looked too Vince, "are you guys having twins?"

“I think so man.” Vince said. “And I’m so excited, but…” He sighed. “I keep seeing Skylar in that hospital bed. What...what if I lose my babies?”

"I don't think your the only one freaking out," Nikki have him a part on his shoulder. "Besides at least your junk is working. I think mine is defective."

“What if it isn’t you?” Vince asked. “I heard Tommy and Pamela say that it took them awhile. What if it’s the Bass genes?”

"If it is, then at least we have Ziggy and Jett," Nikki smiled. "There is always adoption to man. I was abandoned my my mom. I know what it's like to not feel wanted and...I think (Y/n) and I can do it."

“You really want kids?” Vince asked.

"With (Y/n)? Yeah," Nikki smiled.

“You’ll be great. I mean, you raised Tommy!” Vince laughed. “So, what are we going to do about Vanessa?”

"Well, (Y/n) is going to take her dress shopping. We are going to call Mick and Tommy and get you married my man."

“I hope she’s okay with this,” Vince sighed. “I don’t want to lose her man.”

"I'm sure her hormones will kick in and she'll be crying her eyes out at how sweet everything is," Nikki says as they went to pick up Mick and Tommy.

****

“What if we just went with a simple, white sundress?” (Y/n) asked. “There’s some really cute ones.”

"It is very pretty," Vanessa smiled.

“You know, Vince just wants to be married to you. And we could have the big ceremony later, so your little peanut could be there too.” (Y/n) smiled sweetly at her. “All these years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him this way over a woman before.”

"I know," Vanessa sighed. "I just feel like I'm not good enough."

“Sweetheart, remember when I said that I didn’t think I was good enough for Nikki?” (Y/n) said softly.

"Yeah," Vanessa sighed.

“It’s the same thing. But look at us now. Almost twenty years later, we’re finally married with a house and two fur babies.” She smiled at Vanessa. “And it might not have happened if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”

“Hey, all us meddling kids are older than you missy!” Vanessa laughed.

“So, what do you say we get you and Vince hitched and worry about the big ceremony later?” (Y/n) smiled at her. “Because you two need a few months of being married before my little niece of nephew comes along.” She sighed a little as they looked for the perfect dress.

"It's going to happen hun," Vanessa smiled, "You just have to relax and not worry so much."

“We go at it all the time and it hasn’t happened yet. I just...maybe it’s me.” She shrugged. “Oh, Nessa, look at this one.” She held up a beautiful white maternity dress. “Will you try it on?”

"Ok," Vanessa took the dress and walked into the fitting room to try it on. (Y/n) waited for Vanessa to come out and smiled when she saw you.

“You look stunning!” (Y/n) said happily. “Just beautiful! Vince isn’t gonna be able to keep his hands off of you.”

"Yeah, I don't think that's a problem," Vanessa chuckled, "I do like it."

“Let’s get it. My treat.” (Y/n) smiled. “We can get you some flowers and I’ll get a bakery cake to celebrate?”

"Ok, do you think Vince is getting everything ready?" She whispered.

*********

"Wait… You had the certificate for weeks?" Nikki looked at Vince. "That's smart man."

“I just wanted to be ready in case she decided she wanted to get married on a whim.” Vince shrugged. “Hey Tommy, how are you doing over there?”

“I think I’m allergic,” He sneezed loudly. “To these fucking flowers.”

"Yeah well they're Nessa's favorite so tough it out," Mick said as he started stringing the lights. "Who you getting to officiate this thing?"

“Calling one of my buddies I met at the hospital.” Vince said. “He’s a minister.”

"Well, all we need is the cake I think," Nikki says as Tommy finished setting up his DJ equipment. "Naked pictures for fun?" He looked at Tommy.

“I bet sis is gonna get the cake while they’re out.” Tommy said. “What naked pictures are you talking about?”

"Not sure, maybe one of all for of us with some wedding themed shit," Nikki laughed.

“Dude, no one wants to see you naked.” Tommy laughed.

“Your sister does.” Nikki said with a smirk on his face.

"Dude, come on!" Tommy sighed and shook his head. The minister, a man named Ryan, showed up as they got the backyard ready. Soon, (Y/n) and Vanessa were pulling up. Vanessa ran upstairs to put her dress on. (Y/n) carried in the cake and set it on the island, as well as some beverages. She was about to head upstairs to change into her dress when Nikki pulled her off to the side.

“Hey sweet girl,” Nikki kissed her, “I missed you.”

“Babe, you just saw me a few hours ago.” (Y/n) laughed. “I gotta get into my dress.”

“We could have a nice quickie before the ceremony,” Nikki kissed her neck.

“If you play your cards right.” (Y/n) winked. She gave him a kiss before heading upstairs to change.

“Guys, Vanessa’s only going to have one person standing with her.” Vince said.

“Relax, I called Athena. She’s coming.” Mick said.

“Oh? You have her on speed dial?” Vince asked with a laugh. Mick glared at the singer.

“Guys, those are my sisters come on!” Tommy rubbed his face before he turned to Vince, “Pam’s coming too… who’s walking Nessa down the aisle?”

“Me.” Nikki said, coming out to the backyard. “I got her.” He glanced up at the window where the girls were changing.

****

“You look beautiful!” Athena said as she came in with her brush and makeup. “Do you want a full glam or simple?”

“Let’s keep it simple,” Vanessa sighed. “I don’t want to have to chizzle my face to get it off,” she laughed.

“I like this dress you picked out Nessa.” (Y/n) said, turning in her purple dress. “Are you excited?”

“Nervous?” she sighed, “I have a feeling he’s going to take one look and bolt out the backyard.”

“Are you sure you two aren’t really related?” Athena asked, looking from (Y/n) to Vanessa.

“We might as well be,” Vanessa smiled, “Maybe we were separated at birth.”

“I’m sure Tommy would love having three sister.” (Y/n) laughed. “Vince keeps teasing messing with him by telling him that you and Mick are hooking up.”

“Oh that is so much fun,” Athena laughed. “But honestly Mick isn’t my type.”

“We know that, but it’s fun to mess with Tommy.” Vanessa laughed.

“Okay girls, are we ready?” (Y/n) asked.

“Now or never,” Vanessa said as she looked to her friends.

Vanessa reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed Nikki waiting for her, “What are you doing?”

"I'm here to escort you down the aisle." Nikki smiled at her. He glanced over at (y/n) and his smiled brightened.

“Thanks Sixx,” Vanessa gave him a teary smile and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get on with the show!”

“You look gorgeous Ness,” Nikki smiled at her as he led her to the french doors leading to the ceremony. “His jaw is going to drop.” (Y/n) and Athena headed out and soon, Nikki was bringing her towards them. Vince couldn’t help but stare, his mouth opening as he watched her.

“You were right Sixx, his jaw did drop,” Vanessa chuckled as she smiled at Vince. Making their way down, Nikki handed Vanessa off to Vince and stood by him as the ceremony began. Ryan did the ceremony, the vows were exchanged, and so were I Do’s. (Y/n) wiped her eyes as she watched her best friend getting married.

“Are you okay?” Athena whispered.

“It’s so beautiful.” She told her, tears filling her eyes again.

Nikki looked over at (Y/n) and smiled at her. Once Vince and Vanessa kissed it was time to party. Nikki walked up to his wife and kissed her deeply.

“What was that for?” (Y/n) asked with a laugh.

“Just because,” he looked around. “Ok guys time for pictures so gather round!” Everyone posed for pictures while Nikki snapped them. (Y/n) smiled at her husband as she watched him. She loved watching him doing the things he loved. She loved seeing him so happy. “Perfect and one of the happy couple!” he yelled out as Vince stood By Vanessa with his hands on her rounding belly.

“God I love you.” Vince whispered in her ear. “I’m so happy we did this. All of this.” He rubbed her belly as something kicked.

“Yeah, whatever we have in there has been doing that all day,” she smiled. “Ok I need food and cake!” she called out. Everyone started to head inside. Nikki snagged (Y/n), keeping her outside with him. She looked up into his eyes.

“Nikki, when we get home, we need to try again.” She whispered to him.

“We can try right now,” he muttered as he kissed her, “I’m sure we can find a nice spot somewhere.”

“I think they would notice if we disappeared.” She laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

“We can make it quick,” He kissed along her jaw and down her neck. “No matter what happens sweet girl, I am going to worship this body forever.” He continued to suck on the pulse on her neck as his hands found their way under her skirt.

“Nikki.” She moaned softly.

“You two are not making a baby out in my backyard.” Vanessa teased. “Get in here and have some cake.” (Y/n) blushed.

“You got me in trouble Mr. Sixx.” (y/n) laughed. “Might have to punish you later.” She made her way in. Nikki groaned, her words making everything rush south.

“Is that a promise?” he muttered against her skin as he helped her straighten her dress.

“You know it.” She winked at him before they headed inside to have cake and food with their friends. Nikki kept a hand on her thigh the entire time. Slowly rubbing, waiting to go home and get her to bed.

************

A Few Months Later

He was working with a new band thanks to the new Label that (Y/n) was setting up. With his notebook in hand he looked over at his open journal and thought about (Y/n)’s tattoo the wilting flower with the banner that said “Life is Beautiful”. It was faded compared to how it looked in ‘87, but it was still there on her ribs for him to see.

Holding his base he began to play a tune as words came pouring out.

‘You can't quit until you try

You can't live until you die

You can't learn to tell the truth until you learn to lie

Can't breathe until you choke

You gotta laugh when you're the joke

There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive

Just open your eyes

Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful

Will you swear on your life

That no one will cry at my funeral?’

He looked over the words and smiled.

Nikki came home after a small session in the studio. He couldn’t be more proud of her as they worked together with new bands. He also loved that his photography was getting noticed. Some of them of (Y/n) and the dogs, other very artistic and dark. He came in the door and saw (Y/n) pacing, biting her nails.

“Nikki?” She said, noticing him and looking up. “When did you get here?”

“I just got home,” he put down his case and walked towards her, “are you ok? What’s wrong?”

“I...I just found something out. I don’t know how you’re going to react though.” She bit her lip. He thought it was because she was nervous, but she was trying not to smile and laugh.

“(Y/n)? What happened? Are you sick?” He tried to look her in the eye but she kept pacing nervously.

“Here.” She said, handing him a box. “See for yourself.” Nikki took the lid off the box. Inside, was a pregnancy test.

Nikki looked at it before he looked up at (Y/n), a huge smile forming on his face, “Is this what I think it means?”

“Yes.” (Y/n) said, a huge smile on her face. “Yes it is.”

“We’re… we’re having a baby?” he held her in his arms and spun her around.

“We’re going to be parents.” She told him, kissing him.

“Oh man, we… we need to go to the doctor and then we can tell people and oh my god!” he kissed her deeply before going to his knees and kissing her abdomen.

“Relax honey. We have time.” (Y/n) laughed, playing with his hair. She smiled down at him. “Everyone’s going to be so excited for us.”

“I am so happy!” he got up and kissed her again before lifting her up and taking her to the room. (Y/n) held on to him, a smile on her face. Laying her gently he began to peel off her clothes peppering her with kisses along her exposed skin. “I can’t wait until this belly is nice and round,” he muttered against her skin as he kissed her abdomen.

“Does someone have a pregnancy kink?” (Y/n) teased. “It’s gonna be a bit before I start showing babe.”

“Yeah, but I know you are going to look gorgeous,” he muttered before nestling himself between her legs and licking a long stripe along her folds.

“Nikki.” She gasped, arching her back. “Fuck.”

Nikki moaned against her skin as he let his fingers sink into her. He curled them slowly and gently teasing her. He smirked as she bucked against him, he loved making her squirm with his touch.

“Come here daddy.” She moaned. She blushed when she realized what she said and looked down at him.

“Ooooo,” he kissed his way up to her and kissed her. “Daddy huh?” he smirked.

“I can’t believe I just said that.” (Y/n) laughed. She looked up at him. “What’s that look for? Do you like it when I call you daddy?”

Nikki let out an almost animalistic purr as he rubbed against her, “What do you think sweet girl?”

“Daddy.” She moaned. “Fuck me.”

Nikki chuckled as he pushed into her and moaned, “you feel so good.” he purred in her ear as he bottomed out, his hips flush with hers. He began moving his hips, thrusting into her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, moaning and arching her back.

“We’re going to have a baby.” She whispered. “Fuck!” She clawed at his back.

“Cum for me sweet girl,” he muttered as he kissed her lips thrusting faster into her. The sounds of skin slapping echoing around the room as their moans and grunts filled the house.

“F-fuck!” She cried out as she came. “Nikki!”

“Shit,” he threw his head back as he lifted her hips off the bed for a deeper angle. His thumb pressing circles on her clit as he continued to pump into her. “Love the sounds you make. Love the way you feel.”

“Love you.” She breathed, holding on to him as he continued to hit those spots over and over again. She kissed him deeply, her lips parting and allowing him to control to kiss.

“You feel so good sweet girl,” he let out a low grunt, “can feel you cum over and over again all night and I will just love it.” he continued to press circles along her clit smiling as her face contorted in pleasure. “Love the faces you make.” he picked up the pace thrusting deeper and faster into her, “love you.” She rested her forehead against his, letting him take her deep.

“Nikki, yesssss!” She called out. “I...I…” She came again, knowing that he was going to keep doing this all night.

“F-f-fuck,” he moaned as he captured her lips with his spilling into her. All the while still playing with her clit. She came one more time before they collapsed onto the bed, panting.

“Could almost get pregnant this way.” She laughed. “Oh wait.” She looked over at him and smiled.

“Come here sweet girl,” he pulled her close and kissed her. “You give me a few minutes and we can try for twins,” he teased.

“Do I look like Vanessa.” She laughed, snuggling into his chest. “I’m so happy.”

Nikki chuckled and kissed the top of her head, “I’m happy too.” She laced her fingers with his.

“Remember in therapy, when I said that I was scared you’d leave me if I couldn’t have kids?” (Y/n) whispered.

“And remember when I said that could never happen because we can have other options, and we also have two very furry kids,” he caressed her cheek.

“I know. I just...I feel a lot better now.” She whispered, her eyes falling closed.

“I’m glad sweet girl,” he murmured as he drifted to sleep.

****

“Thank you guys for coming.” (Y/n) said, hugging Vince and Vanessa. “How are the babies treating you?”

“Keeping us up at all hours of the night and being cute as ever,” Vanessa said as she and vince carried the twins inside in their car seats.

“Hi there sweeties!” (Y/n) smiled. “They’re so cute!”

“You say that now,” Vince said. “Wait until one of them spits up on your favorite shirt,” he teased. (Y/n) just smiled. Vince and Vanessa headed into the living room where everyone else was hanging out, snacking on the food that they had provided.

“So, I bet you’re wondering why we asked you here.” (Y/n) said after a little while.

"You were lonely?" Mick too a bite of food.

"Wow you're hilarious." Nikki grumbled.

"No. We wanted to let you know that Brandon, Dylan, Dean, Samantha, and all the others will soon be having a new cousin to play with." (Y/n) put a hand on her stomach.

Vanessa squealed as she rushed up and hugged (Y/n). "I knew it would happen you just had to relax. Oh my God this is awesome!"

"We're having a baby!" (Y/n) said excited. Jett and Ziggy barked excitedly.

"I'm going to be an uncle," Tommy have them a smile. (Y/n) hugged her brother tightly. Hugs were passed around and a baby shower was already in the works.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe

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#too young to fall in love #Motley Crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #nikki x reader #the dirt #dirt!nikki sixx #dirt!nikki sixx x reader #dirt!nikki x reader #dirt!nikki #fanfiction

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stcrr · 4 years

Photo

elle fanning. cis female. she/her. ／ lorelei “lorrie” gunther just pulled up blasting which witch by florence + the machine — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty-three year old musician, i’ve heard they’re really -reclusive, but that they make up for it by being so +observant. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say chipped glitter nail polish, a silver gilt mirror, losing yourself in the beat of the music. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( ally, 22, est, she/her )

me: i don’t have a type when it comes to muses! also me: unveils this new muse that is also introverted and anxious but this time with more glitter. anyways, meet lorelei, starr to her fans, and lorrie to her friends, an observant girl, gifted mimic, misfit, mirror, and musician. kind of a jem and the holograms/hannah montana/perfect blue hybrid. details under the cut, like for me to hyu to plot !!

(also her pinterest im really proud of it you guys)

statistics.

full name. lorelei amelia gunther. nicknames. lorrie. aliases. starr. occupation. singer-songwriter. age. twenty-three. date of birth. february 1st, 1997. nationality. american. ethnicity. white (austrian and irish). gender | orientation. cis female | queer. hometown. boston, ma. zodiac sign. aquarius sun, scorpio moon, pisces rising career/voice claim. lorde.

height. 5′9 weight. 120lbs build. willowy. distinguishing features. wide eyes, full lips, constant bags, probably has glitter in her hair. health. 7/10; has no major illnesses but eats like shit, has a whack sleep schedule, is a dysfunctional adult basically. she’s also big depressed but you know how it be.

positive traits. ambitious, intuitive, observant, imaginative, independent, neutral traits. talkative, intense, impressionable, negative traits. anxious, avoidant, moody, secretive, resentful, aloof,

likes. the nighttime, storms, baggy clothes, mountains, weed, lsd, books, blanket forts, lying on the floor, singing, cryptids, cemeteries, dislikes. being herself, deadlines, dolls/puppets, the paparazzi, social media, planning ahead, the outdoors, conflict, the beach,

history.

(tw suicide mention, anxiety attack) (tldr at the bottom)

her mother called her lorelei after the sirens of the rhine; she insisted her first cries were the sweetest song. and lorelei continued to have a beautiful voice; she sang more than she spoke. but only at home.

she never responded to lorelei, though, not really; it felt too grand for her. she was a chicken-legged girl who liked overalls and goosebumps books. she was just lorrie.

she grew up in a lower-middle class region of boston, ma. her father was a salesman, and her mother was a travel agent.

for a while, at school, she didn’t speak at all. she was diagnosed with selective mutism at age five, and it took until she was thirteen to overcome it completely.

this was not at all helped by the fact that her parents had a nasty divorce when she was seven years old. her father used her mother’s ten-year-old suicide attempt against her in court to prove she wasn’t stable, and gained full custody of lorelei and her two older brothers. her oldest brother, matthias, sided with their father, but the middle brother, jeremias, sided with their mom, and tried to run away to his mother’s house basically every month. he ran away for good when he was fifteen, living with his girlfriend’s family.

what helped her overcome this selective mutism, at least at first, was her middle school drama class. at home, lorelei had always been an excellent mimic. she did her favorite impressions for her drama teacher, and she encouraged her to try some monologues and scenes. as she got better at acting, she realized that she didn’t have to be herself; she could be somebody else. and that made talking all the easier.

by high school, she was no longer selectively mute, but was still anxious and shy. she was, however, a total drama kid, and still loved to act. she could be outrageous, incredible on stage; she wasn’t being herself, after all, so if people were judging her, it was the character they were judging, not her.

still she was def the kind of girl who had a mental breakdown every four months and dyed/cut her hair/gave herself bangs. she could never quite shake the feeling that she was an outsider looking in, separated, different.

she still loved music, and as she grew older, she started to write songs. it was her secret dream to be a musician. one of her theater friends talked her into singing one of them when she was sixteen, and then encouraged her to try out for the talent show. she was able to get through the audition, though she was a little nervous, but she knew it would be fine. she was on stage all the time, this would be fine.

but this time, she had to be herself in front of the entire school, and she froze up, not a sound leaving her lips. she doesn’t remember leaving the stage; only remembers that suddenly, she was in the girls bathroom, sobbing her eyes out.

her friends comforted her that night, partying in their basement like they always did, but thats when lorrie had an idea. what if she didn’t perform as herself?

that’s when a starr was born.

as lorelei dressed herself up in all the holo and glitter she had, she created starr in her head; she was born beloved, charismatic, fearless, this glitz and glamor girl who had it all, but what now? even at the top, she found emptiness. she was a beautiful supernova, so breathtaking you forgot she was really a collapsing star.

starr was lorrie’s ultimate muse; she wrote song after song for her in the next few months, until, finally, she asked some of her friends to help her record a music video. she didn’t expect this music video to get 60 million views in a matter of weeks.

royals, of course, blew the fuck up, and she had people calling her house to get her to sign with this record company or that record company, and her eventual producer flew her out to la with her dad. and, of course, the rest is history. (her dad also blew a lot of the money she earned as a minor but she got rid of him and that’s neither here nor there.)

however, as she got more and more into the la lifestyle, she began to rely more and more on starr as an alter ego. people liked starr, after all, and lorrie didn’t even like herself. she played the part of the dignified, wise, and eccentric former queen during interviews, when recording, at after parties and award shows.

even her first major relationship she got while acting like starr, someone fearless and fun, basically a manic pixie dream girl. if you’ve ever listened to the album melodrama, then you know how badly that ended.

that’s around when she realized that starr had taken over her entire life. coming home from a house party absolutely zonked, she looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself, didn’t see that nerdy, overall-clad chicken-legged girl from her family pictures.

she stripped her clothes off, scraped the makeup off her face until her skin was red and dry, dragged a brush through her hair to get rid of all the product, and pulled on a hoodie and leggings she had brought with her to la a year ago. she wrote the first draft of all the songs in melodrama in the coming hours.

however, she still wrote from starr’s perspective, knew she’d perform it as starr. it may be far more personal, but lorrie wasn’t ready to come out just yet. in fact, she’s kind of been hiding the last year or so, a full-on depression mess.

tl;dr lower middle class nerdy girl from boston overcomes crippling social anxiety through acting, finesses this into an alter ego to be a musician, hits it big, loses herself in the alter ego, has a disastrous relationship, and tries to become herself again.

present.

first of all, her real name is Known to the public, but not her “brand” outside of starr. it’s proven to be a boon as of late; she’s known for basically being a walking sailor moon cosplayer, not a skinny woman in baggy jeans and a big black hoodie.

since she’s trying to work on herself, she’s kind of in a creative slump. like, she still has more than enough royalties off her music to keep her going, but her agent and producer are both pushing her to clean up some of her songs and record them for a new album. she can still write as starr, but it feels... different, now. melodrama was far more personal than pure heroine, and she wants to continue to grow; writing as starr feels like reverting back to her sixteen year old self. but she’s too scared to write as herself So....

at events though she’s still in the gauze and stars people expect from starr.

trying to reach out to her mom and brother jer again. not her dad, fuck her dad.

loves true crime, the supernatural, and conspiracy thought. is probably watching a true crime doc rn.

she’s just starting to leave her house for the first time in like... a year? like she’s only started to get out again in the last few months.

as for drugs, she def drinks, but she’s more likely to smoke weed. also, she’s a big fan of lsd, but holds herself off to only tripping every few months.

is considering moving to the woods and being the lonely crone everyone whispers about. or maybe switching to voice acting.

she fuckin hates dolls. literally her worst nightmare is being trapped in some collectors’ doll rooms.

wanted connections.

melodrama ex (0/1) - the ex she wrote her breakup album about. can be any gender. i literally want this connection so bad kfdskjkadsfds

best friend (0/1) - someone who was with her throughout her... Transformation

squad (0/3) - bc who doesn't love a squad. this is the vibe i’m going for (sound warning)

icon (1/1) - someone lorrie looks up to and like... majorly doesn't wanna disappoint. - filled by kami!!!

musician buddies (0/?) - they bounce lyrics off of each other, you know how it is.

rival pop star (0/1) - idk i just think it would be Neat. maybe even with a plot that they had a major falling out and now they have to pretend to get along.

hookups (0/?) - or other messy shit

texting crush (0/1) - really weird concept but like... i imagine lorrie would have the number or snap or insta or whatever of this muse and they get talking after melodrama and she just... lays it all out. they don't really talk in person, but she feels really close to them and definitely develops a crush

weed buddy (0/1) - they come to her house and smoke and complain its great

friend turned enemy (0/1) - maybe someone who adored starr but doesn't like who she is now?????? idk idk

enemy turned friend (0/1) - maybe someone who thought starr was fake af but then meets lorrie being Herself and is just like "oh you're a Human" idk idk

bonus.

as a thank you for making it to the end of this fucking enormous intro, please take a moment to enjoy these tik toks reflective of lorrie’s personality (they’re also???? great on their own)

lorrie talking/singing to herself alone in her house

honestly she has tinkerbell vibes

drunk mouths speak sober thoughts

and thats on mental illness

#excess:intro #admittedly another novel #also i've been vibing to pure heroine all day and like #im going THROUGH IT #suicide mention tw #anxiety attack tw #drugs tw #also a notice i am not going to be making an open starter since... the event is TOMORROW so #i'll just reply to a few

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caracalfeather · 4 years

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WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

Rose spent the night on the floor, waking up with a headache and a pained chest.

Julian woke and gathered their things waiting for Rose to come out.

Silently she made her way to the car, preparing to drive longer despite her aching chest and eyes.

Julian was silent the entire way, just staring out the window.

She stopped in the middle of nowhere, getting out of the car on a dirt road. With a deep breath, she gave a frustrated scream into the empty countryside.

He watched her. Once Rose got back in he turned to her, “did you get it all out of your system?”

She leaned against his shoulder, too exhausted to cry anymore, simply whispering “I'm sorry ilya…

He pet her hair gently. “It’s alright. I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

“Can..we start over?’ She mumbled and looked up at him and sighed.

“Of course we can be dearest.” He kissed her head.

She switched seats with him, falling asleep as they drove.

Julian poked her awake, “hey. Rose….we’re here. Chicago is magnificent.”

She sighed and looked out the window “Beautiful….I missed it here.”

“Yeah…” he smiled, kissing her hand. “We’re close to the Hotel, so I wanted to wake you.”

“Hmm eager to get pegged?” she teased and directed him to the hotel.

“You could say that.” Julian purred, pulling into the Hotel

Rose had gotten a penthouse for a few days, it was set up with multiple areas for julian to be tied up and a bedroom lined with toys.

Julian chuckled, “you are well prepared.” He knelt on the floor, “I’m at your mercy my love.”

Rose slammed her heel down between his legs, almost tearing the crotch of his pants with her heel. She grabbed his chin and growled “You going to be a good slut?”

He nodded frantically, stifling a moan.

She dragged him to the bedroom, ordering him to strip then tying him up so he was against a wall, open legged and arms up, as she went to grab toys.

“Kitten you have quite the night planned don’t you?” He purred.

“You keep talking and I'll have to gag your smart mouth.” She glared and bent down, tying a vibrator to his cock.

Julian yelped and keeled over. Moaning, he looked up at Rose with desperate eyes.

Keeping it on high, she turned him over, walking over to get a large strap on.

He turned his head, biting his lip hard, “oh darling…..you are fierce.”

She teased his entrance with the plastic and slapping his side as she pushed in “Shush ilya,”

He gasped which then melted into a moan. He looked back at her with lust filled eyes.

Rose began to ravage him, thrusting hardcore and turning up the vibrator “You gotta be put in your place.” She gripped his hair and growled “You seem to forget that I'm the boss here. And you are under me.” This was a new side she’d never shown ilya. This was dangerous, pure mobster queen rose. And she planned on making him submit fully.

Julian felt the dominance in him fade. Whatever his lover was trying to prove. He loved it.

She worked him for hours, making sure he was basically passed out from the pleasure as she cleaned him up and put him to bed. She walked over to the window to smoke, looking at the dreary chicago sky. She’d missed the city, it felt cozier than LA….

She had to ask him….she didn't know how but..eventually she had to know.

She took the torn picture out of her pocket and burned the remnants, letting the ashes drift into the grey sky. She’d do it when they got home. For now this was their time. alone.

Julian didn’t rest long, he opened his eyes to see Rose out by the window. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her. Burying his head in her neck. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there swaying.

“Well look who’s awake.” She purred and leaned against him “You didn't rest very long darling.”

He chuckled into her skin, “how could I? You worked wonders my dear.” He kissed her neck, biting here and there.

“Hey. None of that.” She tapped his cheek and smirked “You were being so good earlier ilya.”

Julian didn’t listen to her, he just continued his trail of kisses on her neck and collar bone.

She turned and grabbed his chin, growling with a teasing smile “Stop. It.”

“What if I said ‘no’” he smirked his hand trailing down her back.

“Then we’d have a problem.” She shivered slightly and grabbed his hand.

“Mm hm.” He hummed, “but that would be unfair, why can’t I ravish you in the same way?”

“Maybe i don't want to be ravished in the same way…” She mumbled and looked up at him. Her fight was gone. Her whole tone had shifted to be sweeter.

“Don’t worry..” he purred, “I’ll be gentle.” He started walking her over to the bed.

She followed, taking off the robe she’d covered herself with, and blushing.

Julian kisses her gently, his hand trailing down her stomach and finding her between her thighs.

Rose gripped his shoulders, moaning softly and immediately growing aroused, her muscles going taunt as she bit his neck.

“No more fight darling?” He purred, licking her slick off of his fingers as he prepared to fuck her properly.

“Mmmm just use me…”She laid back on the bed, shutting her eyes and shivering as she opened her legs.

Julian thrusted within her, cursing softly as he pinned her wrists above her head.

Rose gasped and whined, wrapping her legs around his waist ‘I-ilya~”

He kept his word about being gentle, his pace was slow and he felt like he was losing himself all over again. It was just so familiar.

Rose was in heaven, moaning softly and arching her back under him as she tightened around him.

Julian picked up his pace a little, releasing her wrists so he could hold her hips. He was close, and he was absolutely drowning in pleasure. “Fuck...L-Lyra…...you’re always so tight..” he moaned.

#the arcane game #arcana apprentice #the arcana #the arcane julian #julian devorak #arcana #the arcane mc #the arcana julian #cats and birds #mob au #rose sagenea #rose the apprentice #lyra the apprentice

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 15

15. can’t buy happiness

Chapter Summary: Elektra’s record deal brings a windfall of cash into the lives of the band members, and as a former runaway, Lola’s not sure what to do with her newfound, legitimate salary. tommy moves in, the band meets doc, and they make it clear that lola’s staying on as part of the team. vince and lola have a moment that turns into a night which ends up interrupted by tommy but it all works out.

Warnings: drug use, drinking, implied/referenced nsfw, some violence, it’s 7am and this is super all over the place im so sorry omg. also this ABSOLUTELY follows the movie and not the book/real life

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @antisocialfictionhoe @obsessivesky @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite @colsons-crue @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7

{masterlist}

With the record deal comes cash, more of it than Lola had ever really considered in her life, and she suddenly feels like a kid again; uncertain, worried, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The others aren't like that, obviously, taking the opportunity to party as hard as they physically can between gigs, but most of her money goes into rent, bills, and fuelling her various drug and alcohol problems. Anything she couldn't afford, or anything she wanted that wasn't some sort of consumable, she usually stole or found on the street. Before Nikki, before the group home, she'd never had money of her own, any she would earn would be taken from her and "put into a college fund, so she could grow up and make dad proud" at least, that's what her mom told her. She had no idea where any of that money was now.

The point is, the band now had a payroll, and she was at the top of it, being paid an exorbitant amount for basically doing the same thing she'd been doing for the past few months. She kept most of it in a secure location in cash, having never been properly taught about basic adult tasks, like opening a bank account, but it worked for her, for now.

But, in all honesty, living with Nikki and Vince meant she actually didn't want for much. Clothes around the apartment were mostly communal property, apart from pants, which due to Lola's hips and thighs, and Nikki's height, meant they were the only items that weren't interchangeable between the three of them. Not long after, Nikki asks Tommy to move in, cites that they can afford half decent mattresses, and it would mean he could move out of his parents' house; he couldn't agree fast enough.

"Is it- you know, is it weird?" Lola overhears Tommy talking with Vince during practice, the two taking a smoke break out the front, looking out at the Strip as they leaned against the railing. The window's open and Lola's picking up bottles from around the apartment in preparation for the party that night, but she stops. They don't see her, neither of them looking out at the city, but she's worried that Tommy's going to be scared off before he even moves all of his shit in.

"What do you mean?" Vince asks, and Tommy just makes a vague noise that makes Vince laugh. "Lola? Do you mean 'cos of Lola?"

"Yeah, like isn't it weird, with her and Nikki, and you know," Tommy trails off, a little self consciously. It doesn't seem to bother the blonde, however, who hums for a moment.

"Dude, it's the same as not living here, 'long as you aren't the jealous type, you know?" Vince's grin was clear in his words, and Tommy huffed out a laugh, "go with the flow, you'll live longer." Vince claps him on the shoulder and Lola breathes a sigh of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

Tommy adapts to their terrible, roach infested apartment fast, and for that Lola is grateful. She'd been worried, though she needn't have been.

"Dude, you don't work, why've you gotta leave?" He whines, his face pressed into her chest where she's sitting on his lap on the sofa, her duffel bag on her shoulder. Lola laughed, running her fingers through his hair, pulling back. When he looks up at her, his smile is sharp but there's something strangely soft shining in his eyes.

"So I can lift a quad box on my own," she murmured, and Tommy hummed appreciatively at the mental image, his hands sliding over the shiny material of her tights on her thighs. "I can already haul you dumbasses around and make it look easy," she smirked, "I need a challenge."

Tommy takes that as a challenge unto himself, and seems to make it hid personal mission in life to ride around on Lola's shoulders whenever the opportunity presented itself. His favourite was after gigs, at the bar, drunk and elated and on top of the world. Lola's a good base for stunts like this, and, not that she'll admit it out loud, enamoured enough with Tommy that she doesn't complain. Sometimes some of the other groupies at the bar, pretty waifish girls who cling to the band, give her dirty, confused looks, but she doesn't care. For the moment, she's thankful for her broad shoulders, thick thighs, and stocky build; Tommy tends to squirm, even if he doesn't mean to, but Lola finds it easy to keep him balanced.

There's parties at their house almost every night now; if it's not a party, it's practice, and they're in the recording studio every few days working on recording their first album. And Lola's there for all of it.

There's a hierarchy amongst the groupies of the Strip; girls who dated band members were at the top of the list, followed by girls who would see every show they could, followed by the more casual groupies, and Lola's always been in a sort of weird, grey area as she works with the bands, she's more in a league of her own. But there's no denying that with Motley Crue's success, and the nature of her relationship with them, Lola's found herself at the top of the hierarchy without even trying.

Beyond, she also gets along well with Zutaut; he respects her work ethic, and has a surprising penchant for partying, or at least, he seems to spend a fair amount of time at the parties the band held at their apartment. Lola blooms at parties. She's a hostess when she wants to be, not proud of the grubby, cramped apartment, but proud of herself, her boys, and the people they have in attendance. Mostly.

"Lola, baby," Vince catches her hand as she's making her way to the kitchen to grab a new drink for herself, and David Lee Roth, who'd taken up residence on their sofa for the night, her smile is bright, and she lets herself get pulled back to the table where the rest of the band had gathered, "you want a bump?" He asks, nudging Nikki who was cutting up lines of coke on a cymbal as they spoke. Lola hummed, deliberated for half a moment before she sat herself in Vince's lap, taking the cymbal as it was offered.

"Always," she grinned, making short work of the coke. She passes the cymbal back, trying to get back to her original task after giving him a quick kiss.

"You're always rushin' off," he mused, and Lola gave a small smile, getting to her feet.

"'cos I've got people to entertain, ass to kiss, I see you lot every day," her smile turns a little pleased, a little catty, "excuse me if I don't turn down a request from Diamond Dave."

As it turns out, she doesn't have time to even get back to the Van Halen singer before some random asshole tries to score a hit from the band, before Mick shoves him out of the way. The man, who's relatively wasted already, crashes into the wall, into the nice, ornate mirror that Lola had fished out of a dumpster a few months ago, knocking it off the wall and shattering it over Dave's head. He seems unperturbed, merely picking glass from his hair, but the rest of Motley Crue are on their feet in moments.

"Chill out, asshole, it's cool," the guy slurs, stumbling to his feet as Nikki's already yelling at him. Lola carefully puts both drinks she'd collected onto their table, slotting herself in to stand between Vince and Tommy, her expression cold; the hostess in her had left, only to be replaced with the security detail in her.

"Cool?" Nikki snarled, "that is David Lee Roth; how about you show a little respect or get the fuck out." He demanded, practically towering over the other man, who seemed high or drunk enough to not be intimidated.

"Make me, motherfucker," the man snapped, shoving Nikki, who went stumbling back. Lola's ready to vault the table, or at the very least, step around Vince, but she doesn't seem to need to, as a stocky man who looks out of place steps up and punches the other man in the face, pinning him with a foot on his neck, holding the man's hand behind his back. Lola feels a rush of respect towards this newcomer. He smiles at the bewildered faces of the band members, his eyes bright.

"You fellas are gonna need a manager." He grins, much to the confusion of the others, before he nods at the glass covered musician on the sofa, nodding in familiarity, "hey, Dave."

"What's everybody looking at?" He mutters in response, and the tension breaks, the rest of the party goers laugh and go back to their own conversations. Lola ferries Dave his drink and he thanks her with a half smile, but her mind's too focused on getting the rowdy drunkard from her house.

"Oh, good, you met Doc," Zutaut tells them with his trademark, nervous enthusiasm, shouldering his way through the crowd to the scene of the commotion.

"I can take it from here," Lola gestures to the man on the floor, and Doc raises an eyebrow at her. He gives her a quick look over and hands over the other man's raised hand, stepping back.

"He works with James Brown, Kiss, you name it," Zutaut's still smiling, clapping Doc on the shoulder, despite the way Mick's expression is souring.

"Fuckin' hate Kiss."

Lola yanks the man to his feet, misses most of the rest of their exchange as she holds both his arms behind his back with one hand, holding his collar with the other as she pushes him to the door. He's yelling, slurring, hollering at her for having the gall to try and kick him out. He wriggles, tries his hardest to break her grip, even as she's shoving him out of their window onto the landing outside.

"If you don't shut the fuck up," Lola grunted, expression twisted into something resembling disgust as she had her hands on the man's ass, pushing roughly as he refused to go willingly through the window, "I'm gonna knock you the fuck out, and drag you down the stairs myself, you'll wake up in a dumpster and I'll be-" with a final shove, he was finally through. Landing face first, he scrambles to his feet, trying to get back in, but Lola's already climbed out after him, "laughing." She breathes after the exertion of getting him out, "I'll be laughing."

"Fuck you." He slurs, stumbling. It's all too easy for Lola to simply grab one of his wrists and start to drag him down the stairs. He's too focused on not falling down the stairs at the pace she's setting to try and attack or break free. He's still mumbling curses, but he's already seemed to have forgotten why he was angry by the time she's got him back on the footpath outside of the building. Turning him to face her, she holds him by the shoulders, looking him very seriously in the eye.

"If you come back here, I'm gonna cut you with part of that mirror you broke," she tells him, voice level and matter-of-fact. He blinks, frowns, hiccups. She has a whole rant planned out in her head, but it would be wasted on him. Instead, she spins him around three times to disorientate him, and sends him off down the sidewalk. He's got no fight left in him, thankfully, and he seems happy to trail away.

Lola groans and heads back to the party.

"I spent years trying to find a good, gold-edged mirror," she groans once she's back inside apartment, draping herself over Nikki where he's sat back at the table, resting her chin on top of his head. She's interrupting a conversation with Doc, but she can't bring herself to care.

"And this is -?" Doc gestures to a now pouting Lola. She's leaning heavily against him, her arms wrapped loosely around him. One of Nikki's hands finds hers, without even breaking eye contact with Doc, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"Lola Gone; she's our security detail." Nikki's voice doesn't leave room for argument, but Lola's expression is smug when Doc's gaze flicks to it.

"Our roadie, too," Mick chimes in, before taking a sip from his beer, his tone just as resolute as Nikki's.

"Best roadie in LA," Tommy adds, inclining both his head and his drink towards Lola, and her smile softens a little at that.

"Yeah, she's the one I was telling you about over the phone; the assistant," they all hear it when Zutaut leans over to mutter to Doc, and the manager nodded seriously for a moment, considering her. He wasn't frowning, just... contemplative.

"She's pretty integral to this whole thing, man," Vince fills in the dead air, and then all four members of Motley Crue, and Lola herself, were all staring down Zutaut and Doc.

"If she's what's been keeping the wheels turning, show-to-show, I wouldn't dream of getting rid of her," Doc smiles a carefully cultivated, show business smile, and Lola gave him her snake charmer smile in return, all teeth and the promise of a bigger bite. "You'll have to excuse me, Miss Gone, I'm not personally acquainted with your work, but I suppose I should have recognised you; your reputation precedes you." And Lola's not quite sure how to take that. Raising an eyebrow, she watches Doc's lips quirk into the barest smile, and he doesn't elaborate, but he compliments her on how well she was able to deal with the guy who broke the mirror.

Lola leaves them to it after that, grabs her now lukewarm drink and sweetly asks for a seat by Diamond Dave; the groupie who's curled herself up by him takes one look at Lola and moves, taking a seat on Dave's other side, on the arm of the sofa, making room for Lola. Lola gives the girls a sweet smile, holding out her hand for the girl, and when the girl takes it, Lola presses a kiss to the back of her hand, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you, babe," Lola tells her, as sincerely as she can manage, before dropping her hand and nudging Dave's shoulder gently, "she's so sweet, isn't she?" She asks him pointedly. He looks up from the photoframe from which he was snorting up coke, passing it to Lola before looking up at the now flustered groupie. "Cute, too," Lola mentions with absolutely no tact, before doing a line, but he's not picky, and the groupie was quickly turning red.

She knows she has a chance if she wants to get in with the both of them, or whoever Dave ends up with, but her heart's not in it. She stays where she is for the moment because he's got some incredibly high quality blow, but her mind keeps playing the band's words over in her head; they may have overstated how valuable to the process overall - technically any roadie could do her job, just less efficiently - but it makes her feel strangely warm. Pleased.

Vince catches her smiling to herself, bopping along to music filtering in from the record player as she weaves in between people, trying to get to the fridge, and he smiles back at her when her gaze meets his. It's fond and kind in equal measure. Zutaut and Doc have dispersed into the crowd, and Tommy and Nikki are excitedly babbling over each other across Vince, and Mick's probably gone to lie down.

But Vince is watching Lola as she's dancing along to David Bowie, and he can't stop smiling.

"You guys like having me around," Lola laughed, low and a little awed, leaning against the railing on the landing outside. Vince holds out his lighter, lights the cigarette that's poised between her lips, and smirks. Before he can even begin to tease her for her terribly worded thought, she waived him off, clarifying, "like I know you guys like me, but like, it's nice to hear, you know?" Her smile was so pleased it almost bordered on smug and she pushed herself off the railing, stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around him. "Integral," she murmured, a teasing edge to her words, "where'd you learn a ten dollar word like that?"

"I could take it back," Vince raised his eyebrows at her, though he's pulling her closer, "go back in there, tell Doc you're a dime-a-dozen." But Lola doesn't seem perturbed by his obvious bluff, in fact, she's smiling like the cat who got the cream.

"But you wouldn't," she practically sang, though her voice was barely louder than a murmur, "you wanna keep me around and I'm not letting you take that back."

There's a moment where his expression softens; he's endeared by her cockiness, a fact of which she is well aware, but he can't help the way he smiles at her sometimes. Or perhaps it's that he knows she turned down a shot with David Lee Roth; it doesn't really matter if it was for anyone else specifically, she's with him here and now.

"Wouldn't want to, even if I could." Sometimes he's a sap, knows exactly what to say, how to push her buttons, but it's never malicious; he likes the way she smiles, the way she kisses him, the way she pulls him close. It's clear she's proud, it manages to bleed through in all her actions though she doesn't say it; she's reverential in the way she treats him, starry-eyed and adoring.

The only problem comes in the shape of Tommy, stumbling into the room, practically incoherent as the party's winding down. It's well past two and Lola and Vince were actually almost asleep.

"Did I-" Tommy hummed for a moment, before yawning loudly, "interrupt?" He was already struggling to pull off his leather pants, his shirt having been lost sometime earlier, as it was want to do.

"Just trying to get to sleep, dude," Vince hummed, tucking his face into the crook of Lola's neck, his chest pressed to her back. Lola yawned, her eyes staying firmly closed. They, however, did not stay this way, as a mostly pantless Tommy managed to bipass his own bed in the struggle with his pants, and fall directly on top of the pair. He lands with an 'oof' with his pants caught on the heel of one foot.

"Sorry."

Lola grumbles and Vince hits him on the back of the head, but Tommy doesn't move from the bed, just sits up and pulls off his pants with one final tug, before laying back down, this time beside them. Silence, very awkward silence, fills the room.

"You're in the wrong bed, Tommy," Vince tells him very pointedly. Tommy sighs and swears, but just shifts a little, as if getting more comfortable.

"How come your sheets are nicer than mine?"

"Because I paid top fuckin' dollar for these sheets the minute I could afford them," Vince informs him with a sigh. Lola hums, but reaches out, resting her hand on his hip, fingertips gently brushing circles against the bare skin of his upper thigh. Even in underwear he was still more decent than either Lola or Vince, who just had the blanket for modesty.

"Dude, you know we were fucking, right?" Lola asks, biting back a laugh. Tommy sighs.

"Yeah," he contemplates for a moment, "I should move, shouldn't I?" But he didn't. Instead, he shuffled back. "Is it weird if I stay?"

"At this point nothing's weird," Vince snickered, "I've seen you do some fucked up shit, man, and I'm too tired for it to be weird." He admitted, and Tommy let out a triumphant laugh.

"Oh, fuck that is too true, man; fuck this band is awesome," the grin is clear in his words, though neither of the other two can quite decipher exactly what he means by that, but then he's pulling the blanket up over himself, letting Lola pull him close.

"I mean, it's a bit weird, but that's mainly because you're still wearing socks," Lola tells him, and automatically Tommy starts wriggling, trying to pull at his socks, "now- oof, god why is your ass so bony? - you're making it weird, dude, leave it." Lola half laughs, pulling him back to her, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, as Tommy tries to apologise for his socks, "just shut up and be the little spoon."

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #Vince Neil #Tommy Lee #vince neil imagine #tommy lee imagine #Motley Crue #motley crue imagine #The Dirt #the dirt imagine #platinum fic #the angry lizard writes

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