#“hold on. do you see anything in there ? let me crack this open” -Viv probably

[dispotatorulzz]

Today sketchy Viv gore tomorrow who fucking knows

under the cut because I'm still figuring out what's going on with org ans and whatever

I should've used a better reference or something I just put whatever colours I felt like . Incredibly messy and probably bad proportion wise but whatever I'm tiored

[thewickedkings]

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 10

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Summary:  Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up  for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: Mild cursing. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

A/N: This chapter is even longer than the last one, at 4k words. Also, you’re welcome in advance.

That Sunday was one of the busiest at the café. Students were streaming in to work on all their assignments before Thanksgiving break, and by the time they caught a break, Jude was out of breath.

“Damn, I don’t think it’s ever been this busy,” Lili said, wiping her forehead.

“No wonder no one else wanted this shift.”

Lili groaned. “I have to go home and write not two, but three essays. I know I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but it was my birthday week.”

“I’ll help you edit them if you want,” Jude offered. For some reason, she actually enjoyed editing essays, and Lili had definitely taken advantage of that in the past. “And you know it’s called birthday, not birth week,” Jude snarked.

“Shut up, Ms. I-made-googly-eyes-with-Cardan-all-night.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did. Now please tell me what happened, because I know something did. The sexual tension when you guys came back down was disgusting.”

Thankfully, Jude was saved by a customer who had walked in. But Lili was stubborn, and after Jude took her order, she pressed, “Nope. Spill.”

Jude grimaced before recounting the incident, which she now referred to in her head as ‘the bathroom incident.’

Lili gasped comically. “Oh my God. Cardan has more game than I expected. Kissing your thumb after band aiding it? Hold on.” She called out the customer’s name, leaving the drink on the counter, before returning. “Damn, that’s smooth.”

Jude groaned. “I know.”

“Wait, did anything happen when he drove you home?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Jude blushed even more as she remembered the drive. They had been bickering as usual, as if that could stop them both from thinking about the increasing tension between them.      

And then the silence they’d both been avoiding like cowards descended. The painful, awkward as hell silence.

By the time they got to her house, Jude was anxious to get out of the car. She reached for the door handle right as Cardan spoke, staring straight ahead. “So we’re really not going to talk about it?”

She froze, not expecting them to address it. “Talk about what?”

“Jude.”

“Cardan,” she mimicked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine then.” He pushed his door open at the same time as Jude.

“What are you doing?” “Walking you to your door.”

“I can walk to my door by myself.” Her foot caught on the edge of the sidewalk, and she’d stumbled before righting herself.

“Righttt,” Cardan drawled and followed her up the sidewalk.

She ignored him, pulling out her keys and unlocking the front door. “Okay, you can go now, loser.”

“Weirdo,” Cardan said.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Cardan snickered. “Nice comeback.”

“Shut up.” She felt his gaze on her back and was thankful for the dark, because she was blushing for no reason.

“You shut up.”

They both snickered like the immature idiots they were, and Jude knew she had steered clear of the conversation for now.

When Cardan reached his car, he hollered. “We’re going to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she hollered right back.

Cardan just grinned. “See you tomorrow, Duarte.”

Her expression must have been doing something weird at the memory, because Lili snorted. “You’re in deep shit.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Um, maybe first off, actually admit you like him?”

“I do not.”

The Bomb raised her eyebrows.

Jude groaned. “I can’t like him. Not him of all people.”

“But you doooo,” the Bomb sing songed. “You and Cardan are in-”

“Lili, I will not help you edit your essay if you don’t shut up right now.”

She went silent immediately. “That’s just cruel.”

Jude grinned. “So… how’s Van?”

Lili glared. “You’re not subtle at all.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

She wiped down the counter, silent for a beat before she sighed. “Fine. He’s just- I think I need to move on.” Jude opened her mouth to interrupt, but the Bomb continued. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, I think he likes me like that, but I don’t know… he’s always so skittish when I try to take things further. And I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

Jude knew there was more to the story, but before she could say anything, a group of girls entered the café, and Jude had to take their orders. She dismissed it, figuring she’d bring it up later.

 ~~~

Jude didn’t see Cardan at school the next two days. Meeting her college application deadlines took up most of her time, and before she knew it, it was Thanksgiving Break. Vivi came home from college, and suddenly their house was much more lively than usual.

Before Thanksgiving dinner, Vivi stomped into Jude’s room and shut the door behind her. “I know I haven’t visited much, but what’s going on between you and Taryn?”

Jude pulled out her headphones from her ears. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s what she said too!”

“Viv, just leave it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, because even Oak’s annoyed at this point.”

“He is?”

“You are all idiots,” Vivi mumbled on her way out of the room, before popping back in. “Oh, by the way, I think your mac n cheese is burning.”

“Shit! Why didn’t you say that first?”

Throughout dinner, Vivi proceeded to force Jude and Taryn into conversation. The ease at which Vivi slipped back into their dynamic was uncanny after so many months away, but Jude supposed that was the way with family.

Madoc and Oriana carried the turkey to the table while Jude prepared for the grand reveal. Oak bounced in his seat in anticipation of what had becomes Jude Thanksgiving tradition. When Jude pulled back the foil to reveal her mac n cheese, it looked perfectly fine. Except for unmistakably charred edges

Taryn snorted. “It’s definitely better than last year’s.”

Jude cracked a grin. Maybe there was something to say about Thanksgiving in bringing the family together.

 ~~~

Jude spent the end of the break hanging out with Lili, Van, and Garrett. The weird energy between Lili and Van was palpable, and Jude instinctively looked for Cardan to raise her eyebrows at before realizing he wasn’t there. Cardan had texted that he was busy with family stuff on the group chat, and Jude couldn’t help but wonder if he was avoiding her. Logically, she knew she was being self-centered and he probably was busy, but the thought stung more than it should have.

Monday came far too quickly, and Jude rubbed her eyes as she walked to her first class, bumping into the last person she expected to see: Locke. For the past few weeks, she’d been messing with him, but not too obviously that he would suspect she knew about what he did. Her revenge plan was still brewing, but until then, she could have some fun.

She and Lili made a game out of replying to his texts with the weirdest responses, just to see how much he could take. Her favorite was when she had ‘accidentally’ sent him a picture of two tampon boxes, asking which one she should get. When he had responded with a ‘whichever one fits??’ Jude had exploded with laughter before clarifying that it wasn’t meant for him, except that it definitely was.

When she’d asked him if he wanted to come to dinner to meet her sister and her parents, with an emphasis on her dad, he had avoided her for the next two weeks.

Which made it even harder to control her laugh when his face paled when he saw her. “Sorry, I’d better get going. I’m going to be late.”

“Right. Let me know if you can make it to dinner. My dad really wants to meet you.”

Locke practically tripped as he ran away from her.

“Damn, Duarte, what did you say to scare him?” Cardan’s familiar voice drawled out from behind her, and a grin escaped her lips, a small part of her relieved that he sought her out. She hadn’t realized how ingrained he was into her routine until she hadn’t seen him for a week.

His pace matched with hers until they were walking side by side, falling into their familiar groove.

“Just mentioned how much my dad wanted to meet him for dinner.”

Cardan grinned and handed her a cup full of coffee.

“What’s this for?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s black. I don’t know why you would willingly drink that, but you do you.”

“Yes, okay, but why’d you get me coffee?”

“Consider it me paying you back for accidentally spilling your coffee that one time.”

“Accidentally, my ass.” She frowned at her cup. “It’s not poisoned is it?”

“Fine. If you don’t want it, I’ll find some other psychopath who likes black coffee.”

Jude hugged her coffee protectively to her chest. “No. Mine.”

“I figured. Also, we need to finish our project. It’s due…“

“Next week, I know,” Jude cut off. “We still haven’t bought a poster.”

Cardan groaned. “We should have gotten one from Dollar Tree.”

“Well maybe you could’ve gotten that instead of a tiara,” she said, grinning up at him as they stopped in front of her class.

Cardan rolled his eyes. “So are you free Thursday night?”

“Yeah. Text me when later.”

“Good. We’ll talk then,” he said, with an extra emphasis on the word talk. His eyes dropped shamelessly to her lips, long enough that it was anything but unintentional, before he smirked and strode away.

Jude called after him, unwilling to let him get the last word. “About the project!”

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?” He disappeared before she could respond.

Kissing. She was thinking about kissing him. Ugh.

She grumbled angrily to herself as she placed her bag next to her desk. When she caught Taryn staring at her, she snapped, “What?”

Taryn opened her mouth to speak, but the bell interrupted her. “Nothing.”

 ~~~

After soccer practice on Thursday, Jude went home to take a shower. While blow drying her hair she texted Cardan to figure out when they were meeting up. He immediately responded with ‘can’t do my place,” and Jude frowned. After a couple messages, they ended up deciding to go to the library at Cardan’s suggestion.

Oak was throwing a fit over something or another as she headed out the door, and Oriana paused their argument to place a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “Heading out?” It wasn’t in an overbearing tone, just gentle.

“Yeah. To the library.” Jude hesitated, battling the urge to say something more. Oriana might not have been her real mother, but Jude realized what a blessing it was to have someone that checked up on her and cared the way Oriana did. She swallowed and said, “I’ll be back soon,” and headed out.

By the time she got to the library, Cardan had already texted that he was there. Seconds after she turned off her car, a knock sounded on her window, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Cardan grinned sheepishly when she opened her door. “Sorry.”

She shrugged it off and handed him the poster she from the passenger seat. She glanced around the parking lot for his car. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked.” At the shock on her face, Cardan added, “Don’t look at me like that. Just because we live in a suburb doesn’t mean I have to drive everywhere. Plus, it’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

“Okay, but… car. Fast. Walk. Slow.”

Cardan rolled his eyes and tugged her wrist impatiently. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

They walked through the archway that opened up into the entry area of the library, ‘welcome’ inscribed into the stone. The wall behind the front desk was patterned with hexagons of different pastel colors, and the librarian behind the desk gave them a friendly smile. Her dark brown hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of gray beginning to appear.

“Cardan, nice to see you. I see you’ve brought a friend,” she said to Cardan. Her honey-colored eyes glanced at Jude with curiosity.

“Um, yeah. Mel, this is Jude. We’re doing a project together.”

Jude introduced herself, trying to hide her own curiosity.

Mel smiled at Jude warmly. “It’s nice to meet one of Cardan’s friends.” Turning to Cardan, she added, “The back room is empty, if you two want to head there.”

Cardan thanked her and gestured Jude to follow him. They passed the kid’s section, which was littered with bright signs and seating, and when they were out of hearing distance, Jude asked. “So… you come here a lot?”

“Um, I guess. I came a lot when I was a kid, so sometimes I stop by.” The tips of his ears turned pink, and damn, Jude felt something squeeze in her chest at the sight.

“Cool.”

His head jerked up at her response, and whatever he saw in her expression had him reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together. He tugged her hand, and she followed him through the stacks, the only sound their footsteps and the comforting hum of the library.

She grinned at the floor. This boy never ceased to surprise her.

They stopped in front of a room divided from the rest of the library by a wall of glass, and Cardan pushed open the door. The opposite end of the room was also completely glass, and the window looked out over the lake behind the library. A table with four chairs was on the left, and a cozy armchair sat on the right.

Cardan let go of her hand, and she ached to pull it back to hers, feel the warm callouses of his palm against hers. Instead she put the poster on the table and pulled out her laptop. “This is nice. I’m surprised no one else took it.”

“Mel saves it for me sometimes.”

Jude snorted. “You really do charm everyone, don’t you?”

Cardan sat down across her, humming in agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I charm you too.”

“Keep waiting.”

Cardan kicked her leg under the table, and she bit back a smile. If his leg stayed there, pressed against the side of hers while they worked, neither of them mentioned it.

 ~~~

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Jude said, as she looked down at their poster. Yes, it did feel like a fifth grade science fair project, but Jude was still proud of it. Something about cutting and gluing things together made it seem so much more satisfying.

“Not bad? This is fucking gorgeous.” Cardan pushed his curls off his forehead, his silver rings catching the light. Jude’s brain automatically snagged on how unfair it was that guys could have such attractive hands. Like how did that even make sense?

Her gaze caught on them now, eyes tracing the veins and the flex of his fingers where they tapped against the edge of the table. She’d noticed that Cardan always seemed to fidget with his hands, unable to keep them unoccupied.

“Jude?”

“Hm?” She pushed her thoughts away and tried to focus. “Yes, gorgeous,” she agreed.

He gave her a strange look, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. She started hastily picking up the scraps of paper and tidying up the table. When she dared to meet his gaze, he looked like he was battling himself with something.

“What’s up with you and Locke?” Cardan blurted a few seconds later.

“What do you mean?”

This time, his words were a little more deliberate. “I know you’re messing with him, but does he think you’re… dating?”

“I don’t know. We only went on one date, and I pretty much scared him off when I mentioned my dad.” She shrugged, confused as to why he was bringing up Locke. “Does it matter?”

His hand stilled. “I guess not.”

Silently, the two of them worked until they had finished gluing on all the information. They cleared up the excess papers and started cleaning up.

“So when are you going to break it off with him?”

“Well, I was planning to do a whole revenge prank thing, but I haven’t fully planned it out yet,” she said contemplatively, scraping off the dried glue from her fingers.

When she looked up, Cardan was looking at her with a devious smile. “What?”

“I have an idea.”

 ~~~

The sky was dark when they arrived at the grocery store. As they placed their items on the counter to check out, the cashier gave them a strange look. Jude simply smiled and said, “Isn’t it such a wonderful night?”

At Cardan’s direction, Jude drove to a neighborhood a few minutes from Cardan’s, and they parked in a darkened spot on the side of the street.

Jude’s nerves thrummed in anticipation. She hadn’t been this excited in so long, probably since the last time she had pranked Cardan. She had to admit that scheming with someone made it all the more fun.

Cardan pulled on a black sweatshirt, and his eyes met hers as he pulled up the hood to cover his curls. The wicked grin he sent her made her stomach squeeze.

“You take the right, and I’ll cover the left?”

She nodded, and silently opened the door and stepped out as Cardan did the same.

They crouched on the sidewalk next to some trees and silently made their way towards the lone house at the end of the street. Thankfully, Locke’s car was parked out front. They hadn’t exactly planned for it if his car had been in the garage.

A car door slammed across the street and Jude looked at Cardan. “Where-”

He clapped his hand over her mouth before she could finish, and he pointed across the street. A car was reversing out of the house next to Locke’s, its headlights nearly passing over them. Her heart beat furiously against her chest.

The car drove away, and Cardan suddenly dropped his hand from her mouth. Her lips burned from the ghost of his hand, and her heart sped up for a completely different reason.

“That was close,” she whispered breathlessly, and Cardan nodded, his eyes darting away from hers.

They crept up his driveway, and Cardan passed her three rolls of plastic wrap from his backpack. Slowly, Jude unfurled the plastic wrap, and pushed it over the top of his car until Cardan caught it. He wrapped it over his side before rolling it under the car back to Jude. She hadn’t realized how painstaking the process would be, but they kept at it. The sound of the unfurling wrap seemed too loud against the silent night.

Twenty long minutes later, Jude passed the last of the last of the final roll of wrap to Cardan. She waited for Cardan to secure it into place, shifting impatiently on the balls of her feet.

A gentle whirring sound cut through the night, and Jude’s eyes flew to Cardan, who was tip-toeing back towards her from around the car.

“Run,” he whispered urgently.

She grabbed Cardan’s backpack from the ground right as a spray of water hit her arm, drenching her and the side of the car. She glanced behind her and almost laughed, realizing the sprinklers had turned on, not some sort of security device like she had thought in her panic.  

Cardan looked at her, his eyes glinting with laughter. “Come on, let’s go.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

They ran across the sidewalk like criminals fleeing from a crime scene, narrowly avoiding the sprinklers, and Jude felt giggles breaking out of her chest. Her heart pounded against her chest, her breath coming out in pants. The cold water pressed into the skin of her arm, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Cardan’s hand in hers.

They ran all the way back to her car, and they finally stopped to catch their breath. Jude leaned back into the car, panting, her hands braced on her chest to hold her heart in.

Her eyes met Cardan’s, who was panting as if he had just been in a police chase, and a giggle escaped her mouth. And then another. And then both of them were laughing like maniacs.

“Who the fuck-” she laughed, “turns on their sprinklers-” another fit of giggles overtook her. “-at midnight?”

Cardan laughed harder, leaning into her, a palm bracing himself on the car behind her. “Your face,” he wheezed, “when the sprinklers turned on-”

She could barely breathe in. “The way you said run, oh my god.” She broke into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach. Cardan wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

Eventually, Jude’s laughter slowed. The sound of crickets chirping and cars whizzing by on the street behind the neighborhood settled into the air as they caught their breaths. Jude leaned back against the car, tipping her head back up to the night sky.

Cardan was still leaning into her, the moonlight casting a faint glow over his face. When she met his eyes, his lips tipped up in a little smile that sent warmth to her stomach.

With a will of its own, her hand reached up to push back his hoodie, cradling his jaw, and he swallowed, his expression sobering.

A breeze blew over them, lifted a strand of her hair from her face. Her heartbeat thudded against her chest, a different type of adrenaline shooting through her body as his eyes darted to her lips.

In an unspoken agreement, Jude leaned up, and Cardan’s head bent down to reach hers.

Their lips brushed hesitantly, a barely-there kiss, before Cardan pulled back slightly.

Oh. Oh.

“Jude.” His voice was hoarse, a question, a plea exhaled across her lips, and she silenced it with her mouth.

Their resolve snapped, and Cardan’s hand slipped to cradle the back of her head as his head dipped and his lips pressed into hers, again and again and again, warm and soft and desperate. Jude buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, until she was pressed against the car, his forearms caging her in.

She had never been kissed like this.

It felt as though they were running past the sprinklers again, a rush of adrenaline running through her body. Her lips parted under his, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that set her blood on fire. Her thoughts fizzled into nothing, everything except the two of them fading away.

When they pulled back for air, Cardan’s lips were swollen, and both of them were panting. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand still tangled in her hair, and Jude‘s eyes finally fluttered open.

“That,” Cardan rasped, “was worth waiting for.”

“Shut up.” Her voice was a little too breathless for her liking.

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” he murmured as he nuzzled the side of her face, and she felt goosebumps erupt on her arm. “Now you know exactly how to make me shut up.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head, barely close enough for another kiss, before shoving him back, hoping distance would help her regain her composure. “You wish. There are other ways to shut you up.”

He stumbled back with a breathless laugh. “I do wish.” He glanced around at the street, as if just remembering where they were. “We should probably go.”

“We should. Wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Okay, right.” His hands spazzed at his side for a moment before he spurred into motion, opening her door for her with a roguish grin.

Jude didn’t exactly know what she was getting herself into, but she couldn’t bring herself to put an end to it.

~~~

A/N:  And there you have it, the scene that inspired this whole thing. It’s the first scene I even wrote, and everything else was just fun to write to lead up to it. I was about to cut this chapter off before the last scene, but I decided to keep it in because it takes me forever to update. Like I said at the beginning, you’re welcome 😌  I hope it’s as good as it was in my head 😭

Okay, but the fact that this is the tenth chapter and people are still reading?!! Thank you all so much for reading this and supporting this!! I probably would have abandoned this if not for you <3

As usual, let me know what you think in the comments!! Reblogs are appreciated :)

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Gateway Drug | Seventy-Three [pt.2]

Word count: 3.4k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, drug abuse, verbal abuse

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"When are you gonna quit starting fights?" Fred asks me as I leave Guns' dressing room once they get out on stage. 

"I'm not talking about this with you." I cut the possible conversation here.

"You're lucky none of the guys heard it, Viv." He says next.

"I said I'm not--"

"--First Sparkie, now Axl, how many of 'em are you gonna go at before the tour's over?" 

I freeze.

"How did you know about that?" I ask Fred, my eyes wide, my heart feeling like it's stopped beating momentarily. 

The sudden cracking of glass shattering and girls squealing echoes down the hall as someone yells:

"If you ever fucking touch her again I'll fucking kill you!" 

But it isn't just someone. It's Nikki. 

I don't ask anymore questions before Fred and I run down the hall, going to the hospitality room to see Nikki on top of Sparkie, punching at his face.

"You hear me?!" Nikki screams at him as Fred pulls him off.

"Nikki," Fred starts calmly, getting Nikki off of Sparkie, but Sparkie's face is still in kicking distance, and Nikki takes the opportunity to get three good kicks to the teeth in, completely oblivious to Fred's efforts to calm him down as he adds:

"Fucking touch her again and see what fucking happens you piece of shit!" 

"Nikki!" Fred shouts over him, yanking him away from Sparkie. 

"He's not fucking her up like he did Tansy!" Nikki argues, shoving at Fred's shoulders to get free. 

Sparkie's garbled laughter sputters out through his blood soaked mouth.

"I've seen your guys' tapes, something tells me the easy bitch likes it anyway she can get it as long as something's in her--anywhere." He grins out, wincing in pain. 

"Go to hell!" I bark as I go for the bastard next, my knuckles getting splattered with his blood as I pick up where Nikki left off before Fred's yanking me off of him, which is a mistake because with Fred sidetracked with me, Nikki's got his knife out, about to stab Sparkie, making more of the groupies scatter before they become witnesses to a murder, but now Doc's in here and snatches him back and Sparkie cowers to the corner, as far away as possible. 

"What the fuck is going on?!" Doc's hollering at us, rage in his eyes as Tansy, Tommy, Vince, and Mick all make their way in.

"Sparkie?" Tansy asks, stepping to him, crouching down, her hands holding his blugended face, slight panic rising in her voice as she looks at Doc and says, "can we get him to a hospital?" 

"Fuck no! Put him on a plane and send him the fuck home!" Nikki demands. 

"Nikki." She argues, tears in her eyes.

"I don't give a fuck if he gets seen about or not but I'm telling you now, Tansy, if I see that motherfucker on this tour again, I'm fucking killing him!" 

"I'm gonna report you for threatening my life." Sparkie groans out, trying to sit up.

"It's a fucking promise!" Nikki snaps at him. 

"Okay, okay!" Doc shouts over Nikki, the vein in his forehead popping back out. "Tansy, I'll go to the hospital with you two, Nikki, Vivian, when the show's over you go to the hotel and you fucking stay there." He points his finger at us before looking at Fred. "You make sure they fucking stay there until I get back. I've fucking had enough of this shit." 

Doc helps Tansy get Sparkie to a cab, and Nikki refuses to talk to any of the guys about what just happened, he just goes to the bathroom, and I follow after him--assuming he's going to shoot up, but he's just cleaning the blood off his face and hands from where it gushed out of Sparkie and onto him.

"Fred told you." I state when I get inside and he looks at me for half a second in the mirror above the sink before continuing to get the blood off his hands. 

"He told me the sick fuck was practically pinning your arm behind your back to get you to fuck him." He tells me and I sigh in relief that Fred didn't tell him exactly what Sparkie was using against me. 

"Thank you for taking up for me." I say to him and he splashes his face with water and turns the sink off. 

"Did you expect me not to?" He asks and I raise a brow. 

"I just expected you not to give a shit, honestly." I reply. "I thought you'd be too--" I stop myself from finishing that sentence and he lets out a breath. 

"--Thought I'd be too high to give a shit." He finishes it for me and I nod a little, frowning slightly.

"He put Tansy in the hospital and probably fucked up the chance of her ever having kids. Whether you and me like each other right now or not is completely fucking bullshit when it comes to keeping that gross cuntface asshole away from you. High or not, I'm not standing around and letting him back you into a corner, I just wish you would've told me about it sooner, Vivian."

"Can you blame me for not wanting to? I feel like anytime I open my mouth around you, you flip your shit." 

"I flip my shit? If anything I can't even walk into the same room you're in without you starting a fight with me." He throws at me. 

"Because you deserve it." 

"Right because I lied to you, cheated on you, chose drugs over you, made a mockery of your beliefs, humiliated you, shot you, and the list goes on." He repeats what I said to Tommy two weeks ago and I roll my jaw. "I get it, Vivian, I'm the piece of shit that should rot in hell forever...and I'm perfectly fine with that." He chuckles, rubbing his lips together. "Hang in there. Only a handful of months left and we can sign papers and pretend this whole thing never fucking happened." He adds, stepping to the door and I grab his wrist stopping him. 

He looks down at me, his unshaven face tired from lack of sleep, his hazel eyes starting to regain consciousness after being dimmed from heroin. 

He takes a step to me and I walk back until my lower back is hitting at the sink and he's making me bite my tongue when he lifts me up onto the sink, getting between my legs, his bruised hands grasping at my hair, making me look at him as I take heavy breaths. 

I look from his eyes to his lips and he smirks, leaning down, his lips brushing against mine before he says:

"For someone who can't stand me, you really know how to give those 'fuck me' eyes." He tells me. "Too bad they don't work on me, anymore." He adds, his eyes staring mine down, before he's dropping his hands from my hair and turning on his heel, leaving me. 

He claimed he was immune to me at that point, but yet he slept with groupies and pretended they were me, so I'm not sure how that lie was.

"The hell happened with Sparkie?" Izzy asks me, finally able to come down from the stage high, thirty minutes into Mötley's set. 

I'm assuming the rumor of the carbuncle was getting around back stage like the plague and I look at him and Duff, Stevie, and Slash, who are all in the background, sitting down and cooling off. 

I go with a half-truth.

"He was disrespectful towards me and Nikki had enough." I explain.

"He made a pass at you?" Izzy raises his brows, his tone getting slightly defensive.

"Yeah, but it's handl--"

"--What'd he do, he touch you?" He cuts me short.

"No." I lie, a little taken back by Izzy's defensiveness.

"Did he try anything?" Stevie asks next.

"Guys, no, it's handled anyway." I give them a small smile, though it falters when my eyes catch on Duff, who's smoking a cigarette, avoiding making direct eye contact with me. 

If I would've told them the truth, Sparkie wouldn't have lived to die two years later.

I change into a t-shirt and pajama shorts, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed as Duff gets out of the shower and starts getting ready to go out with Steven, Slash, Nikki and Tommy, standing behind me at the bathroom counter. 

"So, like, Nikki and Doc wanted to talk to you about Sparkie?" He asks me about what I told him earlier about Doc wanting to speak to me and Nikki about the Sparkie incident.

"Uh, yeah." I try not to wince at how unsure I sound. 

"Oh." He replies. "...What was so bad that Nikki put Sparkie in the emergency room over it?" 

I take a moment to think about it, rubbing my lips together, shaking my head a little. 

"I told you, baby, he just got outta line and Nikki handled it." 

"What's 'outta line'?" He keeps on and I exhale. 

"Duff--"

"--Is it being a verbal creep or getting his hands on you or both or what?" He questions. 

"It doesn't matter, alright? It's handled." 

"Yeah, I keep hearing that but you're still not being honest with me about it, Viv." He insists, his tone keeping steady and calm as I leave the bathroom. "What did he do?" 

"I told you that it's taken care of, Duff, alright? Just drop it."

"If it's handled, why're you meeting up with Doc and Nikki to talk about it?" He asks me next and I turn to look at him where he's leaning against the bathroom door. 

"Because Doc wanted to talk to us." I tell him, but he doesn't look completely convinced. "What?" 

"Nothing." He sighs out, defeated, going back to the bathroom. 

I exhale sharply and go to the door, about to open it but I stop and go to the bathroom, wrapping my arms around Duff's bare waist, resting my cheek against his back. 

"I'm sorry for being rude or coming across as secretive. I appreciate you trying to be here for me and watch out for me but I'm not completely helpless, alright?" I ask him and he lets out a small breath and nods a little.

I kiss the skin of his back before saying, "I'll be right back," slipping out of the room door.

 He thought I was going to hook up with Nikki, using "Doc needs to talk to me and Nikki" as an excuse...not that his worry lasted long after Nikki fessed up to what happened with the Sparkie ordeal when they went out that night.

As soon as I shut the door and turn around, I run smack dab into Fred, my heart stopping for a moment until I realize it's him and let out a sigh of relief. 

He huffs out a breath and keeps walking. 

"Is there any point in paying for a separate room for you if you're just gonna shack up with--"

"--Shh!" I scold him, yanking on his wrist to slow him down. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." He mumbles. "Not that your moaning isn't a dead giveaway or anything." 

"Very funny." I cut my eyes at him. 

"It is being that I had to convince Nikki you were masterbating the other night." He replies. 

"Who's to say I wasn't?" I ask smartly. 

"There's a difference in 'I'm being fucked into oblivion' moans, and 'wow, I really am better by myself' moans." He shrugs. 

Before I can argue, he's unlocking Doc's room and ushering me inside, where Nikki is waiting, an impatient look on his face, sunglasses covering his eyes. 

"Where the fuck is Doc?" He groans out. 

"Still at the E.R. because you put him there?" Fred tells him as if it's common sense. 

"Wouldn't have happened if he would just back the fuck off." Nikki smacks his gum.

"You better hope he doesn't press charges." Fred points at him. 

"If he does, Vivian won't have anything left when she drains me during divorce." Nikki pokes his lip out and I roll my jaw. 

"Again, I don't want any of your money, Nikki." 

"You're saying that now, but I bet $500.00 this time next year you'll be pleading spousal support or some other gold-digging bullshit." 

"You don't have $500.00 to back up a bet--Mr. '$35,000 a week in heroin'." 

"My belt is about to be going nothing to 35,000 on your ass if you don't shut the fuck up." 

"Screw you!" I argue. 

"That is if you can even get my prick hard--your fucking attitude's got me questioning if pussy's even fucking worth it anymore!" 

"Hey!" Fred intercepts, plugging his ears to block our yelling. 

"And now you've got Fred upset!" He motions to Fred. 

"You have our entire team upset with your recklessness!" I accuse him.

"Oh, my recklessness?! You wanna talk about my recklessness?!" He barks out. "You're the one getting into fist fights with the opening band!" 

"And you're the one fucking up Mötley Crüe!" I get it off my chest finally, and I can see the damage it's doing to Nikki's mind, despite his eyes being hidden, tension building in his jaw. "You know what, I'm not even gonna sit in here and wait for Doc." I tell Fred. 

"Vivian, he needed to talk to you guys." Fred tells me. 

"Thank Fuck." Nikki ignores him, stepping to the door. 

"Nikki." Fred tries his luck with him. 

"If this cunt wants to think I'm a piece of shit, she just needs to keep that mentality up because I'm tired of her 'I wanna get along but then turn on you like a fucking piranha' bullshit." 

"I'm a piranha-cunt now? Thought I was an ugly gold digger." I sarcastically let out. 

"And I thought marrying you was gonna be a good idea." He mercilessly hisses, looking at me directly. "Obviously shooting up for the first time was a better decision than ever letting you be more than the goodie-goodie church bitch I turned out purely out of boredom." 

"Out!" Fred shoves at us, getting us to the door, tired of hearing it.

I'm the first out, hearing him pull Nikki back, scolding him for saying that to me, but I don't care. 

Despite the tears in my eyes, his words don't bother me like they should...I hope my words didn't bother him too badly, either. 

Once I get back to Duff's room, he's gone, and I'm left to crawl into bed and hope he doesn't stay angry at me for long, and pray Nikki doesn't either. 

I said really messed up things to Nikki the months leading up to his overdose, things that I still apologize for to this day. 

He was an asshole, he was abusive, he cheated, lied, made me feel crazy...but he was sick. 

So, so sick--and I was, too, for tolerating it for so long.

Nonetheless, I knew he was down, and I just kicked his teeth in every chance I got.

A few days later, I step in to see Axl and Duff, sitting on the bed, talking but they abruptly stop when I lean against the door frame, making my presence known. 

Duff clears his throat, blowing smoke from his cigarette past his lips.

"What're we talking about?" I ask them, raising my brows.

Neither of them reply, Axl standing up, sighing. 

"Well, I'm gonna go see what the guys are gonna do after the show tonight, kinda in a going out mood." He grabs his sunglasses and heads for the door. 

"What was that about?" I say to Duff once we're alone, sitting on the foot of the bed beside him, and he shakes his head a little, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

He just stares down at the floor, thinking, and when he goes to take another inhale of his cigarette, I pluck it from his hand. 

"What, are you breaking up with me already?" I ask him, nudging at his shoulder because he's been kind of distant the past few days, ever since he found out I didn't tell him about Sparkie.

"No." He mumbles, rubbing his forehead. "Nikki told me about Sparkie." He informs me and I let out a breath and lick my lips nervously. 

"I get that you're not happy with me, Duff, but to be fair, I didn't tell anybody. The only reason Nikki knew about it is because Fred told him after he'd overheard it."

"And that's why I'm upset, Viv. Because you didn't tell anybody--you weren't gonna say anything until Fred said something for you."

"Because I didn't know what to say, Duff." 

"'Sparkie's being inappropriate towards me', 'Sparkie's trying to get me to sleep with him and I'm uncomfortable' would have sufficed. I get you not telling everybody else because fear of them not believing you or not caring but I wouldn't have blown you off and I sure as hell would've believed you, Vivian." He states and my throat gets dry. "And maybe that's my fault because I fucked up somewhere along the line and gave you the impression that you couldn't trust me to believe you or give a shit about stuff like that or somethi--"

"--Duff, I've never thought that. I wanted to tell you."

"Then why didn't you?" He asks me, raising his brows and I exhale.

"He was telling me that he was gonna tell Nikki about us if I didn't 'give him a turn.' I got freaked out because I thought if I told anyone he'd really tell Nikki the truth and you guys would be off the tour, which is exactly what you guys are trying to avoid happening."

"If it came down to you being in trouble, and Guns staying on this tour and staying in everybody's good graces, then fuck Guns N' Roses." He tells me, sternly, and I let out another heavy breath. "And any of the guys would agree, alright? Even Axl. Us staying wouldn't be worth you sleeping with a piece of shit--sorry, being raped, because that's what it'd be." He corrects himself and I smile sadly, feeling bad for not talking to him about it. "Just talk to me, Vivian. Alright? You used to talk my ear off and tell me everything and now it's like you just don't tell me things." 

"I know." I admit, handing him his cigarette back, and he discards it to the carpet, squashing the lit end with his boot to put it out before he pulls me to his lap, kissing my cheek before pressing his lips to mine, sweetly. 

"I'm sorry for not being open with you." I tell him when we pull away.

"Sorry for being a dick and not trying to talk to you about it sooner." He replies and I brush blonde strands from his face.

"I'd rather you take a few days to collect your thoughts instead of screaming at me the moment it happens." I inform him. "Thank you for being so kind, and patient." I add. "I really appreciate it." 

His lips tightly upward in a slight grin, before he kisses me again, wrapping me tightly in his arms, before he kisses my hair and holds me.

"I love you." He tells me.

"I love you, too." I say back, honestly, closing my eyes and savoring being so close to him, peace flooding throughout me, although short lived. 

There's a bang at the door within a couple minutes, Duff and I getting up, and he steps to the door. 

When he opens it, Fred barges in. 

"Where the hell is your walkie?!" He's practically screaming at me and I furrow my brows.

"What?" I ask him, confused. 

"Your fucking walkie, Vivian, you don't know how to fucking answer it?!" He narrows his eyes, furious, and I remember I accidentally left it in my room before going to Duff's. 

"What's going on, what's up?" Duff asks him, slightly frantic and just as confused as I am. 

"It's Nikki." Fred says to us, grabbing at my hand, tugging me out. 

"What happened?" I ask him, feeling sick, my nerves bunching in my stomach. 

We get to Nikki's room, the door cracked open, and when he pushes the door open I see Mick and Doc outside of Nikki's closet as Nikki screams incoherently as Doc tries to reason with him, and I furrow my brows, stepping behind Doc, looking in the direction he's looking in, seeing Nikki on the closet shelf with the light off, scrunched up, pale, sweating, shaking, wide-eyed, and I realize he's saying, "I want Viv." 

[cottontail20]

In Happy Times, Our Love Does Grow, Chapter 14: Listen To Me

Summary: Wanda and Vision have a meaningful discussion about past relationships.

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601530/chapters/50325881

Wanda only just managed to stop herself from yelping in surprise, not wanting to wake Viv. Her heart raced.

Shit. How long had Vision been there, and how much had he heard? And whoa, he was so close. Were his eyes always that blue? And so gentle. He was looking at her like.. Wanda wasn't even sure, but it made her heart flutter, and heat rise in her cheeks. If she reached up and leaned in just a tiny bit, she could be kissing him, and.. No, bad Wanda!

"Fata dulce.." Vision whispered, so as not to wake his daughter.

"Hmm?" The words snapped Wanda completely out of her minor trance, although she was a little too distracted by thoughts of kissing Vision to register what he had said.

"Fata dulce" He repeated. "You've called her that before. What does it mean?"

"Oh.. Sweet girl. My Mother used to.." Wanda trailed off. "It just means sweet girl."

"It's nice."

"I suppose so.. you framed my painting."

"It deserved to be framed" Vision replied. "It is very good."

"Thank you.."

They both stood there for a moment, in a silence that was equal parts awkward, and somehow the most comfortable Wanda had ever felt.

"I, uh.. I came to see if you needed help" Smiling almost shyly, Vision offered her his arm. "Because of your foot.."

"Right.." Her broken toes were throbbing a little, although Wanda felt almost as though this was her body conspiring against her, giving her an excuse to accept his help. "It is a bit sore, actually."

Vision offered his arm again, and Wanda took it, letting him help her hobble out of the room. Wanda left the door slightly ajar, sensing that Viv probably appreciated that extra little bit of light. Her instinct was right, because Vision smiled at her. Another sweet, shy smile. Wanda wasn't sure what he thought he had to be shy about, but she was sure that that damn smile was doing funny things to her insides.

"So.." Vision spoke, to break the silence that had again settled between them, "How has work been? Today's thrilling adventure aside, of course."

"It's been.. work" Wanda chuckled, grateful for the distraction the new discussion gave her. "Honestly, Today might have been a nice break from the monotony if I wasn't so worried about Viv getting hurt."

"Thank you again, for helping her."

"It was no problem, really.. The store will want me in costume for Halloween soon. Mantis always has great ones."

"Is her name really Mantis?" Vision's brow crinkled.

"Surprisingly, yes" Wanda nodded, smiling. "Apparently her parents are really into insects. Anyway, if I don't come up with a costume on my own, the store gives me one, but it's always something really cliche, like a witch, or a vampire.."

"Hmm.. Why not dress as the Scarlet Witch?" Vision suggested.

"What?"

"Like your painting, the Scarlet Witch. A costume like that wouldn't be too difficult to pull together, and it would be special and unique to you. It seems like the perfect solution.

On the surface, it was. Maybe even a little too perfect. The Scarlet Witch wasn't just a character in a painting. The Scarlet Witch was Wanda.. kind of. A completely idealized version of herself. Beautiful, powerful, smart.. everything Wanda wished that she was. For a person who had as low an opinion of herself as Wanda did, that wasn't an easy 'costume' to wear.

Still, she managed a smile for Vision. He was just trying to help.

"Maybe.." --

Vision helped Wanda back to the sofa, and she propped her foot up once again.

"Would you like anything, Wanda?" Vision asked. "Tea, coffee?"

"I'm usually a tea drinker" Wanda replied.

"So am I" Vision smiled, heading for the kitchen and fetching two mugs from the cupboard. "I keep the coffee for guests. Mostly Natasha.."

Wanda, oblivious to the fact that Nat had clearly been trying to play matchmaker on the Fourth of July, suddenly felt jealous.. and then wanted to slap herself. She had no right to be jealous. Still..

"Are you and Nat..?"

"What? Oh, God no" Vision laughed as he set about making the tea. "Natasha is just a friend. More like family. She loves being Auntie Nat to the kids, but she's very happily single."

"Right.." Wanda felt more relieved than she had any right to be, and before she could stop herself, asked a question she knew she had no right to ask. "What about you?"

"It would be nice to have a special someone" Vision shrugged, "But, being a single Father.. That's a little too much baggage for some women to handle. I've met a few.. they think Vivian is the cutest thing in the world when they assume I can hand her back at the end of 'my weekend'. Once they know it's full time, and thatI don't like leaving her with babysitters too often.."

"I'm sorry, Vizh.."

"It is what it is" Vision moved to sit beside Wanda, a lot closer now without their adorable Viv-shaped buffer, and handed her a mug of tea. "I understand that there's a lot more to think about when there's a child involved.. But Viv doesn't bite. I'm not trying to replace her Mother. She had a Mother. I just need someone who doesn't immediately balk at the fact that spending time with me usually means spending time with her.. It doesn't have to be something scary."

"Of course not.." without even thinking about it, Wanda moved to comfort him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're a great guy, Vizh, and Viv is the sweetest kid I've ever met, and anyone who can't accept that she comes first for you.. Well, that's their loss."

Somewhat selfishly, Wanda thought that, if she didn't have to be a Mother to Viv, if she could just be her friend, which she was more than happy to do.. Maybe, she and Vision could.. No. She wasn't good enough for him. She wasn't the Scarlet Witch. Not beautiful, or clever, or strong. He deserved so much better.

Vision, immediately noticing her change in demeanor, frowned.

"Wanda, is something wrong?"

"No.." She sipped her tea, trying, but failing to hide a sudden quiver in her lip.

"I'm your friend, Wanda. Vision insisted. "You can talk to me."

"It's just.. I live in a crappy apartment, working a job I hate so I don't lose my crappy apartment, any men I do meet only want one thing, and.. Sometimes I wonder if that's all I'm.."

"Don't" Vision grabbed Wanda's hand, and she only just managed not to spill her tea.

He was looking at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen on him. It was actually really hot.. No, bad Wanda! She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"Don't what?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

"Vizh.."

"No, listen to me" said Vision. "You are beautiful, and kind, even when you don't want to be, like when an idiot walks into your store a few minutes before closing and completely outstays his welcome.. And there's just something.. Something special about you. You deserve love and respect as much as anyone else does, probably more than some people do, and anyone who isn't willing to give you that isn't worth your time. Do you understand me?"

"I.." Wanda's voice cracked. She couldn't remember anyone ever being so kind to her. At least, anyone who wasn't related to her. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, struggling to respond.

"Do you understand, Wanda?"

"Inteleg.. I understand."

"Good."

Vision was still holding her hand. They looked at each other for a long while. Vision opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, but the sound of a siren somewhere outside broke the spell. Wanda pulled her hand from Vision's grip, before quickly draining the rest of her tea.

"I should probably head home soon.."

"Of course" Vision nodded. "Let me call you a cab, I'll pay.."

"Vizh" Wanda frowned, "You don't have to.."

"I want to" Vision stood to fetch his phone. "Viv and I invited you over, the least I can do is help you get Home.." --

When the Cab arrived, Vision helped Wanda outside (leaning against him felt almost normal now), and politely opened the door for her.

"Text me when you get Home, alright?" Vision asked. "I want to know you made it there safely."

"It's only 9 PM, Vizh" Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "What could happen?"

"Just promise you will text me."

"Fine. Promisiune."

"Good.." Vision seemed to pause for a moment, considering, then kissed her cheek. "See you soon?"

"Yeah" Wanda almost squeaked, blushing bright red, quickly climbing into the cab. "Soon."

Vision moved to the driver's side, giving them Wanda's address, what he thought was enough money to cover the fare, and a very generous tip in exchange for helping Wanda up to her apartment to keep her from further injuring her foot. Wanda was about to object to just now generous this tip was, but the cab drove off before she could. Vision waved to her, a cheeky smile on his face.

Wanda watched him until her cab turned at the end of the street. He was still waving. Once he was out of sight, she gently touched the spot where Vision had kissed her cheek. It tingled, exuding a soft warmth.

And Wanda smiled. Vision thought she was beautiful.

[whumpitywhumpwhump]

Whump Drabble

I had a 2hr flight today so I wrote this while I was in the air (these are just random characters that I made for this specific scenario)! Hope y'all enjoy!

--

The pain spiraled up from his hip with a renewed intensity. He bit back the groan that threatened to spill from his lips.

The fall had been nasty; the landing had been nastier. The crunch had been less than promising, and when Gabriel tried to roll onto his back, the spike of pain confirmed his fears. He felt the area with the pads of fingers.

Something shifted under his touch- he whimpered- something was definitely broken. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, bracing himself against the throbbing that was already starting up.

"Gabriel? Holy shit!" Vivian's voice reached him like a knife to the ear. Anyone else, he thought bitterly, I would rather have been stuck with literally anyone else.

She dropped to her knees beside him, brown eyes wide, curls swinging down around her face. If he didn't know better, he'd say she seemed concerned.

If he didn't know better, he wouldn't have ever agreed to do this mission with her. But he knew how bad The Wrangler was- what he could do to them, to their city. He knew this, and so he agreed to sneak up on his lair with Vivian.

He didn't agree to being caught, and chased across open desert by Wrangler's men, but he hardly had any choice in the matter.

He certainly didn't agree to climbing up a sheer cliff face with absolutely no rock climbing equipment or experience, or to falling off said cliff face and getting hurt. But as with many things today, his lack of agreement was irrelevant.

Now he had Vivian Johannes leaning over him, eyes huge with panic, and a potentially (probably) broken hip.

"Well, this isn't my idea of fun. Are you at least having a good time of it?" He forced a smile over his pained expression, cracking what he hoped came across as a joke. She blinked like he'd just spoken gibberish.

"Come on, admit it, you've always wanted to get me under you. Maybe not like this, but still." He wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke, knowing with certainty that she had never wanted any such thing. He'd bet dollars to doughnuts that Vivian despised him at least as much as his archnemesis, Bloodwing.

"How the hell are you joking right now?" Her voice was at least half a step higher than usual. "You literally just fell off a damn cliff!" She gestured up at said cliff.

"Oh, really? Hadn't noticed," he replied, still pushing calmness into his words, still keeping his tone as even as possible. His leg flashed intermittently hot and cold and numb, but he tried to push down the part of him that was scared by that. "Thanks for letting me know!"

She did not appreciate his sarcasm even a little bit. "Is this a joke to you? This is a serious mission Gabriel!"

Luckily for him, her voice seemed slightly more normal now. He needed that.

"Is it? Really? Why didn't you say so Halo?" He threw in her alias to really drive home how casual he was being. He almost never called her that- it required him to respect her as a hero, and he was almost never willing to admit to that.

Her brows furrowed, eyes flashing with something new. "Fine, joke all you want. See if the Wrangler appreciates your humor." She immediately hopped to get feet and started walking away.

He'd gone too far. Shit. "Viv, wait, please." He tried to turn his body in the direction she was stomping, but it pulled at his leg. Something scraped, and he was too slow to swallow the whimper that followed.

His words did nothing but that little sound stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to him, and he swallowed thickly. He hated letting her see the strain in his gaze, but it was getting harder to keep it quashed. His hip was really starting to hurt.

"Do you want me to help you or do you want to keep making stupid jokes Nightfox?" She managed to infuse his alias with a particular kind of venom that only she alone seemed to have mastered.

"Depends. Are you gonna freak out if I stop?" Her mouth practically fell open.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I've watched your work before, and you panic when you feel stuck somewhere. It means that on our left is an approaching horde of Wrangler's mean and on our right is a sheer cliff face so we are literally in between a rock-" he gestures to the cliff- "and a hard place." He points toward the open desert, wherein the approaching enemies were somewhere concealed.

"It means that I know you don't actually hate me or want me dead, which is why you came back for me instead the lair, and I know you don't really fancy leaving me here to die. I am cracking jokes like it's going out of style because I'm more than a little worried that if I don't distract you, you're gonna panic and we're both gonna die. Because, truthfully, it literally pains me to admit it, but I actually need your help."

He could have slapped her and she'd be less shocked. She just blinked, once, twice, mouth working.

"You... were trying to distract me?" The incredulity shone through her words. He just nodded, busy riding out a fresh wave of pain.

She came back over to his side, visibly calmer, and knelt down. She caught his gaze, eyes studying him for a minute.

"Is it bad?" There was no question what she was talking about. He bit the inside of his lip, looked down, then have a small nod.

His leg chose that moment to spasm, muscles clenching over injured bone, and Gabriel gasped. He took a slower, deeper breath, trying his damnedest to steady himself. He couldn't really afford to panic right now either.

"We can't stay here, Gabriel."

"I know." He did know- that's what scared him.

She glanced down at his leg, and he did too. His stomach twisted at the sight- the swelling was already pretty visible through the thin material of his pants.

"They're coming, we really need to go..." She paused, uncertain. She wasn't sure what to do here; she couldn't accurately judge just how screwed they were.

He refused to meet her gaze again, still staring down at his swollen joint. His voice was soft as he spoke. "Viv, I don't think I can stand like this, but..." He trailed off, partly because he had no idea what else to say and partly because he didn't want her to hear the tears starting to choke his voice.

She didn't say anything. That was somehow worse than whatever he expected. He couldn't take waiting in silence right now.

"Do you want me to try? Maybe I can?" Gabriel did not want to stand, not at all, but they needed to do something soon and it was all he could think of. His thoughts were a little occupied with the vicious throbbing at the moment.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was hesitant, almost as much as his tiny nod that followed. He held out a hand and she grabbed it silently.

A quick tug, and she pulled him to his feet. He shifted a little weight to his injured leg, paused a few seconds- not bad, not bad- bAD BAD BAD--

His leg crumpled underneath him and he dropped to the sand. A strained yelp tore out him. His hip twisted unnaturally as his weight landed on it, forcing further gasps of pain out of him.

Seconds later, a small hand was against his shoulder, grounding him. Brown eyes stared him down, inches away from his face.

"Gabe? You still with me?" His gaze must have gone unfocused for a few seconds. He nodded, taking a couple shallow breaths. He tried to focus on the expanding and deflating of his lungs instead of the ripples of agony coming off his hip.

"I guess, guess that's a no on the standing fr- front." He hated the tremble in his voice, but it couldn't be helped. The pain was bad and getting worse, and he didn't have the energy to bother hiding it anymore.

"Yeah, that's out." Her voice was low but even, her hand still resting on his shoulder. Actually, he realized, her hand was squeezing his shoulder slightly, in a gesture that was surprisingly kind for a woman who didn't even like him that much.

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. "I have an idea but you're not gonna like it." He narrowed his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

"You seem pretty light, weight-wise, and I do have plenty of experience with carrying people out." His mind rapidly connected the dots. She had been a firefighter before turning hero, had carried people out of burning buildings, down ladders--she wanted to sling him over her shoulder.

He had to admit it was a good idea, but then he had to admit to himself how much it was going to hurt to be carried at that angle. He whined softly in the back of his throat- it surprised him; he hadn't meant to do that.

"Like I said, you won't like it. I know it'll hurt, but it's the best idea I've got. You got anything better?" She was asking out of courtesy-- he clearly didn't have any better ideas.

"Let's just get on with it." The words came out in a thick rasp, pain tightening his throat.

Her arms laced around him, getting a good grip. A second's pause, then she hefted him up.

The scream was involuntary-- he didn't even realize he was screaming for the first few seconds. The pain shooting out from his hip ratcheted up from horrendous to unbearable. The joint twinged at the angle it was forced to hold in order to hang over Vivian's shoulder-- muscles tightened, and couldn't properly release the tension. Fractured bone pulled away from cracked socket, swirling cracks into his voice as he moaned.

Black spots swirled across his vision, his own cries of pain rang in his ears. As he ran out of breath, he heard a voice under his own.

A steady stream of apologies and comforting words flooded into the air in the shape of Vivian's voice. She didn't let up on it for a second.

As he watched the sand passing under him grow hazy, he began to wonder if maybe, just possibly, Vivian didn't hate him quite as much as he thought.

"You'll be okay, Gabriel. I promise, I'm getting you out of here."

The pain swelled as their pace increased, and blackness swarmed his vision, ripping everything away with it.

--

Thanks for reading!

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Fast Forward (part 1)

Back at it again with another time travel fic. This time it’s a Lewis fic, and he’s travelling forward in time. (LewVivArt)

Self-indulgent, sappy, angst and melodrama. Also, this is leaning towards LewVivArt. Don’t usually focus on ships in my fics so we’ll see how this goes.

Summary: Lewis wakes up in a future where he’s been dead for two years.

Part 2: here 

“You’re sure it’s fine.”

Lewis watches Vivi hover next to Arthur, on her knees, peering under the van to watch Arthur do whatever mechanical thing he did when he lay down on that roller thing to work on the van’s undercarriage.

“Yes, Vivi. Everything is good to go. I’m just giving her a once over for good luck,” Arthur responds, voice slightly muffled.

Vivi leans forward, cheek almost touching the concrete in an attempt to follow Arthur’s movements.

“It made that weird squeaking noise the other day.”

Arthur huffs, “That was the brake pads, which I’ve replaced. Pass me that wrench.”

The arm that Lewis can still see waves towards a slime silver tool which kind of looked like a wrench. Vivi is again distracted, trying to follow Arthur, so he pushes himself out of the doorway and weaves his way around the workshop to grab the tool. He kneels next to Vivi, putting it in Arthur’s still waving hand.

“I’m sure the van is fine Viv. Arthur knows what he’s doing.”

Vivi sits upright to give him a look, “I’m not doubting Arthur. Just making sure there are no more road trip delays. The Mystery Skulls Machine needs to be 100% ready to take on all manner of ghosts that we’re definitely going to find while we solve all those unsolved cases.”

“Lewis hand me the tool next to the one you just gave me,” Arthur interjects, and Lewis glances down, locating and handing Arthur the requested item, before turning back to Vivi.  

“Ghosts,” He starts slowly to be provocative, “Right. I’m sure the van can handle whatever the ghosts throw at it.”

“Is that a hint of scepticism I detect,” Vivi leans forward, taking his bait, giving him a light poke in the chest, “We don’t take too kindly to sceptics in these parts.”

Lewis grins, also leaning in, giving Vivi a raised eyebrow, “That’s unfortunate. What are you going to do about it.”

“Ah,” Arthur’s exasperated voice interrupts, “Can you two shuffle back, I can’t get out with you guys sitting there.”

Lewis, still grinning, heaves himself to his feet, holding a hand out for Vivi. Vivi sniggers, taking his offered hand so he can pull her upright.

“Sorry Arthur,” They both say in unison, watching Arthur shuffle around under the van, finishing up with whatever he’d been doing. A second later he slides out, smears or oil across his cheek, so it matches his off white work shirt.

“Everything good?” Lewis asks, offering a hand to Arthur as well. His friend heaves himself into a seated position, muscles along his shoulders shifting.

“Yeah. It’s all fine. Like I said, I was only doing a tune-up for good luck,” Arthur grips his hand, and Lewis almost forgets to pull, slightly distracted by Arthur’s smile. It’s warm almost reminding him of Vivi’s playful smirk but more relaxed and easy. The mental comparison throws him through a loop for a hot second.

“Well, that’s good, cause I can’t wait to get out of this place and see something that’s not cactus and dirt for once,” Vivi is talking, bouncing with pent up energy, “We should start packing now, so we’re ready to leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Haha, sure,” Arthur laughs, wiping his hands clean on his shirt, “let me just park the van out front to make it easier.”

“Come on Lew,” Vivi tugs at his hand then frowns, face wrinkling, pulling back. Lewis realises a second too late that his hands are now also covered in grease.

“Yuck,” Vivi grouses, “Arthur, how is it that we get covered in this stuff when you’re the only one doing mechanic work.”

“Bad luck?” Arthur offers with a loose shrug, quickly retreating to his van.

“You know where the sink is,” He calls back at them.

Vivi huffs, watching Arthur reverse out of the garage. She then turns and gives him a contemplative glance.

“You know. I only get this oily stuff on my hands when I touch you.”

Lewis eyes snap away from where he’s tracking Arthur and onto Vivi who leans in towards him, wigging her eyebrows.

“Uh. I was being helpful?”

Consideration and maybe realisation flash across Vivi’s face and she grins.

“Helpful. Right. I’m sure that’s all. Nothing else?”

This is new. Lewis stares at Vivi, unsure of what she’s hinting at exactly. He’s still getting used to this flirting thing, and Vivi is better at it than him, so maybe he’s missing something.

“Let’s go wash our hands and pack the van,” He suggests in place of addressing her question. Vivi seems disappointed. He has no idea why, a few seconds ago she’d been all but pushing him out the door in her rush to start packing.  

>>>

Long into the evening, after the van is packed and everything is ready for the road trip, the exchange is still playing over in his mind. It repeats on a seemingly endless loop. Arthur…Vivi. He liked them both. Being officially with Vivi is still new, and he’s getting used to thinking of her as more than a friend. But, he’s never really considered Arthur the same way.

Or had he? Lewis frowns up at the ceiling of Arthur’s living room. He is stretched out on Arthur’s couch, and Vivi is snoring loudly on a mattress next to him.

Now, considering the whole thing, he doesn’t think he’s ever talked to Arthur about him and Vivi being in a relationship. What did Arthur think about it? It’s weird that he has never thought to ask.

He loves Vivi, her energy, enthusiasm, the get it done attitude, can’t image his world without her really. But he also feels the same way about Arthur and his more methodical approach to life and openness with all emotion from happiness to fear. Arthur who is his best friend. Lewis ponders the comparison. He’s not sure what to do with this information. Did Arthur feel the same way? What would Vivi think? Should he broach the topic with either of them?

He doesn’t come to a conclusion instead drifting off to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

>>>

Lewis awakens feeling oldy heavy headed like he has slept longer than he should. He is still on Arthur’s old couch, but Vivi’s mattress has been moved. He stares at the empty floor in slight confusion. Had Vivi and Arthur packed it up without waking him? Strange. He doesn’t consider himself a heavy sleeper and Vivi wasn’t a quiet person so it should have woken him.  

The sound of a oiled pan spitting and the distinct smell of eggs frying distract him from the conundrum. Lewis hoists himself upright to peer over into the kitchen. Arthur’s lounge and kitchen are joined into one open-plan room so he can just make out the back of Arthur’s head and shoulders by the stove.

There is the sound of salt shaker clattering over and Arthur swears under his breath. Lewis lets a small smile pull at his lips. The only time he hears Arthur swear is when he’s trying to cook. He’s not quite sure why Arthur’s decided to make breakfast when it’s usually Lewis who handles anything kitchen related but he’s not about to complain. Though, it is odd that neither Arthur or Vivi had decided to wake him. Weren’t they supposed to hit the road as early as possible?

Lewis yawns, trying to rid himself of that odd heavy headedness, swinging around so he can stand. The curve of his back cracks as stiff muscles loosen. Now he’s standing a few paces from Arthur, the couch and an island benchtop separating them.

Lewis opens his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘good morning’, but Arthur beats him to it, turning,  still holding the pan of eggs.

“Hey Viv, hope you like burnt eggs because…”

Several things happen in quick succession.

Their eyes meet. Arthur freezes, face draining of colour. The pan clatters, falling from Arthur’s hand and onto the floor, cracking against the floorboards. The eggs and hot oil spatter over the bench, ground and other's side.

Lewis makes a sound of alarm, “Whoa Arthur. Are you okay.”

He starts towards the kitchen intent on offering aid and forcing Arthur’s hand under some cold water.

“Stay back,” Arthur snaps, backing up, stumbling when he almost slips on the now cooling oil.

Lewis hesitates at the panic in Arthur’s voice, eyes darting around, trying to find its source.

“What? What’s wrong,”

The sound of clicking across the polished wooden floor draws his attention towards the door nearest to Arthur. Mystery trots in, ears pricked and alert, probably in response to the sound of Arthur dropping the pan.

Lewis doesn’t think too much of it, more focused on helping Arthur, until a loud growl and the flash of teeth has him backpedalling. Mystery’s snap misses by an inch and Lewis takes several steps back, eyeing the surprisingly aggressive dog wearily.

“Mystery? It’s me boy. You know. Lewis.”

Lewis has never seen Mystery attack anyone, so he’s understandably unprepared for the sudden hostility.

“Don’t move,” Arthur is biting, “I don’t know what’s happening, who you are, but your trick isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about,” Lewis tries to edge around Mystery and almost gets bitten for his trouble, “What’s going on. Why is Mystery acting up?”

His brain then processes Arthur’s questions, “Wait. What do you mean you don’t know who I am?”

“Lewis has been missing for almost two years now. You’re expecting me to believe he would just waltz back in here like nothing.”

“What? No, I haven’t,” He objects feeling very thrown at the aggression in Arthur’s tone, “Is this some sort of prank because it’s not very funny.”

Arthur glares. Arthur’s never glared at him like that before.

“Whatever this is,” Arthur growls, “just… don’t. Lewis was officially pronounced dead yesterday. You can’t be here.”

“But…” He starts, hesitates, then continues in distressed exasperation, “I am Lewis….and I AM right here!”

Note: Another of my time travel fic which has been sitting around for a while, now out in the world. 

Part 2: here

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter six! 

It’s been a while, guys! I’m not quite done with classes for the semester, but I decided to clean up this next chapter (it was already written, it just needed some heavy work) and post it! The next chapter certainly won’t take as long to get out.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu @chromecutie  @gallifreyangrandtorino  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @akihecko @bigstarlightkingdom 

Vivian hadn’t been to Sister Margaret’s to pull her shift in three days. Her absence had all the usual miscreants worried (Weasel could stitch people up too but he was known for taking his time about it). She never missed work if she could help it. Like, she came in to pull her shift with a broken arm once.

Wade didn’t have an explanation for why Vivian was avoiding her favorite place in the world, but he had a nasty feeling that it was Cable’s fault. Weasel told him something happened, but Weasel didn’t tell him what - probably because Weasel didn’t know. And Cable wasn't talking, even though, according to Weasel, Vivian's absence was definitely his fault. Wade was gonna kill him.

“Viv! Open the door!”

Wade had been knocking on Vivian’s front door for ten minutes, but she hadn't answered the door. He was dressed in his usual drug dealer-esque get-up, making a ruckus in the hallway of her not-fancy-but-still-too-classy-for-him-to-be-dressed-like-that apartment building, pounding on Viv’s door in the hope that she’d open up. Some of the neighbors were definitely peeking out of their peepholes, but Wade wasn’t leaving until she answered the door.

He didn’t even know what he’d find when he saw her. He’d never seen Vivian legitimately upset before. Angry? Sure. Annoyed? That was an everyday thing. But upset? He was almost a little apprehensive to find out what that was like. She wasn't answering calls, answering texts, answering the door. The fragile wooden apartment door. The door that Wade was about a half-second from kicking open to make sure she was alive and functioning, if breaking down the door wasn’t such a safety hazard for her. She’d probably tell him to fuck off (communication was not her forte sometimes), but that was better than just leaving him out in the cold.

Frankly, this was getting a little embarrassing. The neighbors had probably called the cops by now.

“Vivian! I know you’re in there, Dr. House,” Wade called, knocking on the door again. “Your car is here and you don’t use Uber.”

Vivian heard Wade call out, she just didn’t want to talk. She’d worked at the clinic the past few days but hadn’t gone to Sister Margaret’s. The last thing she needed right now what the acrid stench of beer and vomit in her nostrils, a bleeding contract killer screaming in her ear, and the sight of Cable sitting at his usual barstool. She flushed just thinking about it - pained and embarrassed. A little sad.

"Stop beating down my door!"

"Then open up!"

Wade kept right on knocking. Friends showed up even when it was messy and inconvenient, so he would keep on knocking until she started talking. Even if she didn't want to talk. Even if all she did was glare at him or cry or fall asleep on the couch, he'd sit there until she got it all out.

After what seemed like ages, finally, Wade heard footsteps leading up to the door. He shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands.

Vivian cracked open the door. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

And promptly slammed the door shut again.

“Can you at least explain to me what’s going on?” Wade called, knocking on the door again.

Vivian stalked back to her front door, and this time, she threw the door wide open. She huffed, leaning against the wall in her front hallway. She knew Wade wouldn't leave until she talked. She was too fucking tired for this.

“There are about three people in this entire world that I trust and you’re one of them,” Vivian snapped. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded. “I would have expected you to tell me that the guy you’ve been encouraging me to go for, who I kind of liked, who might have actually liked me back, was married, because I have a sneaking suspicion that you knew and didn’t tell me.”

Wade's hood fell back away from his face. The pitts and divots in his skin seemed deeper in the artificial hall light, almost like bruises.

“Wait, whoa whoa,” Wade said, stepping back. “Hold it. What happened?”

“Your mercenary buddy got his arm split open again, so I stitched him up,” she started, still leaning against the door frame. She made no motion to let him in. “We were talking, and then he kissed me. And about ten seconds later, he pulls away and tells me he’s married. So I stormed out, and here we are.”

Wade's mouth gaped open. “Did he explain anything?”

“Why would anything need to be explained? Marital status is a pretty straightforward thing,” Vivian stated, cocking her head to the side. “And this isn’t about him right now. This is about why you were encouraging this without even warning me.”

Well, Wade had been hoping Cable would at least explain the inner workings of his origin before he started locking lips with anyone, but Grumpypants apparently was a little rusty on the dating front.

“Because he’s not married in this timeline, Vivian. He’s from the future and he can’t go home. He’s lonely and grumpy, just like you.”

She knew Wade was joking because that's the only way he knew how to deal with emotion, but still - ouch.

“Is now really the time to call me grumpy?” Vivian asked. And then she paused when she realized what Wade actually said. “Also - what the fuck? He’s from the future? He can’t go home? His wife is there?”

This would have been so much easier if Macho Man had the emotional range to function properly.

Wade sighed. “Can I come in?”

Vivian looked a little like she was praying for guidance from someone Wade couldn't see. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

She opened the door to let him in, padding backwards to her den. She directed him over to the couch in her living room and sat down next to him.

“So he kissed you and then told you he was married?”

“That's the gist of it.”

Wade shook his head. “I thought he’d come to terms with that.”

“Well, clearly not,” Vivian said, propping her feet up on the table. She grabbed the pillow next to her and tucked it up under her chin, squeezing it like a security blanket. “I refuse to chase after someone whose ex-wife might not even be a fetus yet.”

Wade couldn't explain why Cable would have brought that up. Cable was still something of a mystery, though Wade had known him for well over a year now.

“Listen, I was trying to do something good for the both of you,” Wade said, about as honest as he'd ever been. “You deserve someone who’s going to take care of you and treat you the way you should be treated. He’s a decent guy and he deserves someone he can relate to. He might be your regular ol’ Jean Claude Van Damme type, but I know you and if anyone could make you happy, Cable’s the guy.”

Vivian sighed. “You’re still pushing this? Do you know something that I don’t? Like, are we gonna make the superbaby that saves humanity or something? Because my baby-growing parts don’t work anymore, so that’s not a thing.”

“Look, I just know that you really liked him, and I haven’t seen you even look twice at a guy since I met you. I mean, I used to be hot and you didn’t even look at me,” Wade said, pausing. “I just want you to be happy, McSteamy. And get some good dick.”

“I’m not promising that I’ll talk to him. Not even for you.”

“That’s fair,” Wade shrugged. “I’d have started shooting by now.”

Wade leaned against her side, snuggling up to her. He had a tendency to do that anytime he got on her nerves - it was more or less his way of asking for forgiveness. She always let him, because Wade is just Wade and he usually doesn’t mean any harm.

They were silent for a while. The TV buzzed quietly in the background, though neither one of them were paying it much attention.

Vivian rested her head against his. “You were hot back then.”

He gasped. “I knew you looked!”

“Only once.”

The bright stadium lights were blinding and the crowd was deafening, but Vivian felt like she was in a bubble. She’d been trying to compartmentalize everything that had happened over the course of the week, but she couldn’t seem to get away from it completely, not even to focus on Benji and Shelly. She saw Wade behind her eyes every time she blinked, telling her to talk about her feelings (she wasn’t great at that), then Colossus, then Cable (though she’d been trying to grind that out of her mind the entire week.

“You okay, mom?”

Vivian blinked as Shelly prodded her shoulder. “What, honey?”

“You keep spacing out, ma,” Benji interjected, nudging Vivian’s other shoulder.

Jack couldn’t come to Benji’s soccer game, so Vivian was taking his spot (enthusiastically and happily). She hadn’t been to one of Benji’s soccer games since he was in early grade school, and now she was taking advantage of the climate - i.e. screaming and talking shit with the rest of the over-enthusiastic parents. Though, she’d been spacing out for the last half-hour of the game. Tired, mostly likely. Emotionally exhausted. She’d been trying to fight it off so that she could actually enjoy time spent with her kids.

Shelly had resorted to prodding her and forcing popcorn down her throat to keep her awake. Benji had even noticed from his spot on the bench and walked up the bleachers to poke her awake.

“You need to take it easy with the clinic hours, mom,” Shelly said, raking her fingers through chunks of sweaty blonde hair. It was late in the day, but it was hot and sticky in the middle of a stadium filled with screaming people. “You’re falling asleep at an event.”

“It’s not the clinic hours, babe,” Vivian replied, handing Shelly a hair tie. Shelly never remembered them, but Vivian always had a fistful of hair ties. “I’ve just had a long week.”

The longest week on record, it seemed. Wade’s unprompted visit and constant texts as well as the long clinic hours and Weasel’s pleading for her to come back to Sister Margaret’s had left Vivian so drained. She’d tried to push the mess that Cable made into the back of her mind for the sake of her own mental health. And Colossus - she had too much to think about to even go there. The soccer game had been last minute as well; about thirty seconds after Wade left, she got a call from Lucy - the secretary at Shelly and Benji’s school - letting her know that Jack wouldn’t be able to show up to Benji’s soccer game.

“Well, the other moms are taking everyone for pizza afterwards,” Benji said, standing up. The coach was calling for him to get his ass back down to the field. “So wake up, we’ve got to go have fun!”

“I’m awake!” Vivian said, waving her son off. “Don’t worry about me! Go kick some ass!”

“Language, mom!”

There it was again - Benji viciously and vividly reminding her of Colossus. Speaking of mutants - she’d been monitoring Benji all night to make sure that he wasn’t showing signs of a mutation. Between the two of her kids, he was the one who was more likely to have one. Not to say that she hadn’t been monitoring Shelly as well - she definitely had been. She hadn’t seen anything yet, but that wasn’t to say that something couldn’t crop up.

Vivian had been nervous ever since her conversation with Colossus. The idea that either of her kids could be hiding a mutation scared the shit out of her. What would Jack do if he found out before she did? She didn’t want to think about it - she’d rather take preemptive measures.

And she hadn’t thought about returning to Xavier’s Mansion since her visit earlier in the week. She needed time before she was ready to give Colossus an answer. She already knew what her answer would be, she just didn’t want to think about it yet.

Shelly poked her again. “Mom, come on. Stand up and yell again or something. You look like you’re sleeping with your eyes open.”

Vivian stood up with Shelly to watch the rest of the game. That’s when she noticed something: Benji was good. Which, Benji had always been good. But he was just a little too good for a ninth grader. And he was fast. Benji wasn’t so fast that he seemed strange necessarily, just a little out of place.

Vivian leaned down next to Shelley’s ear. “How long has your brother been that good?”

Shelly looked a little shifty. “Uh, he’s always been that good?”

“There’s good, and then there’s that good.”

“I mean, he’s just fast, mom....”

There's fast, and then there's tripping two kids and stealing the soccer ball from them before the coaches could even figure out what happened.

“Shelly, I’m going to ask you something, and you need to be honest. Does Benji have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“Does your dad know?”

Shelly shook her head. “No, he doesn’t usually watch the games. He flirts with the teachers.”

“Well, that’s a whole other problem right there. Do you have a mutation?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk about this after the game, but you have got to keep it hidden from your dad until I can figure out what to do.”

“Okay.”

Wade was certain Cable was going to be tougher to deal with than Vivian. Both he and Vivian were stubborn, but Vivian would at least listen for more than thirty seconds without shooting at him or aiming a knife between his eyes. This time, Wade had to be prepared for a confrontation.

When Wade finally found his way back to the X-Mansion after spending most of the day lounging on Vivian’s couch, he was ready to knock some sense into Cable - in his own way, of course. Which basically included a small pep talk and making Cable feel like an idiot. Wade felt like this would accomplish his goals with more efficiency than an older-brother type, I’m gonna fuck you up threat. Plus, shaming Cable and making him feel guilty for fucking up would be infinitely more satisfying.

Wade's method was simple: full-on call-out post. Facebook Mom style.

Wade burst into Cable’s room, ignoring the fact that Cable was dressed only in a towel, and glared at him like he was ready to kill him. “What did you do?”

This wasn’t phrased as a question so much as an accusatory finger-poke.

Cable gaped at him for a half-second before yelling at Wade to close the damn door. Wade obliged, albeit more slowly than he would have if the hall had been empty (people were peeking in to watch the anticipated fight).

Once the door was closed, Cable sat down on the edge of his bed, making sure that all his bits and pieces were covered up by the towel. “Something stupid.”

Wade pulled out the chair at Cable’s workbench. Several intimidating-looking guns were positioned barrel-first in his direction, and he was immediately thankful that he could regenerate. “Uh, yeah? You told her you were married? After you kissed her?”

“Is this any of your business?”

“I’m the one who introduced you to her! Sort of! In a very business-like fashion after you’d been stabbed,” Wade said, picking up one of the guns. Cable eyed him warily, muscles tense. “So, yeah, it’s definitely my business! You’re not married in this timeline. You’re not going back to the future, Marty McFly.”

Cable glanced over at the teddy bear sitting on the top shelf of his workbench. “Don’t you think I’m reminded of that every single day?”

“It’s been well over a year already,” Wade reminded him, almost gently. “I know losing your family isn’t something you just get over. Hell, I took a cat-nap on twelve barrels of gasoline. More than once. But you’ve made a lot of headway.”

Cable shook his head. “Talking to you is fucking impossible.”

Wade figured that he needed to try a different approach. He switched from Facebook mom to father of three teenage boys approach. “Look, do ya like her?”

“No fucking shit,” Cable replied. His face grew soft, and he suddenly seemed to Wade every bit of his age. “Of course I do.”

“Then get off your ass and go fix it! Explain to her what’s going on.”

“I doubt she’ll listen,” Cable replied, reaching out to pick up the teddy bear. He held it in his hands, turning it over. The bear’s golden eye flashed in the light from the room’s only lamp, not unlike the eye of the man holding it. “She doesn’t exactly seem like the type to give second chances.”

“You’d be surprised what she’ll do for people she cares about,” Wade said, pointing. “Like you, asshat.”

“Did she say that?”

Yeah, Cable definitely seemed older now. Tired. Maybe even a little melancholy.

“She didn’t have to.”

Cable set the bear back down on his workbench and tugged the slipping edge of his towel back into place. Wade couldn’t imagine a more awkward moment than being berated in a towel, but he supposed it added to the air of shame on you that he was trying to achieve.

“I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Well, neither do I! Go talk to her and figure it out!”

[mizalsayf]

Gone - Part One

~MASTERLIST~

Summary: Viv has had enough of constantly feeling like she didn’t belong to the Sanctuary and confronts Negan.

Word Count: 1055

A/N: I really wanted to write something angsty (kind of? Idk.) I’ll probably do a part two for this! Let me know what you think about it and I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: swearing, violence, overall angst

Tagging: @haleyea, @warriorqueen1991, @wolfgirl1074, @jml509, @negansoutpost, @collette04, @jdms-network, @negans-network

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

(gif originally posted by @jdmfanfiction)

Viv entered the room and when she spotted him, she strode across the room and punched him right in the face.

Negan stumbled back, not expecting her punch to be that strong. Or being on the receiving end of a punch at all.

His head swayed back and he stared at her with half lidded eyes, impressed by her. But her rage held the power of a wildfire and his growing smirk, only fueled her anger even more.

She narrowed her eyes and shook in silent anger.

“Damn, darling. I see you gettin’ somethin’ out of your hard work. Although, I would fucking appreciate it if you didn’t use it on me.” His voice held an underlying threat beneath.

Viv didn’t feel threatened or alarmed by him at all. But she knew she had to be careful.

She clenched her fists and jaw, still not letting a word past her lips. She had the sudden urge to leave. Not just his room, but the Sanctuary altogether.

They kept staring at each other, never looking left or right.

Negan was the first to break eye contact with a heavy sigh. He looked around the room, becoming impatient.

“Viv, what do you want? And why the hell did you punch me?” He asked through his teeth.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She knew that this battle was one she was going to lose, and she had to prepare herself for that.

“Think about it.” She answered in a whisper, feeling like the walls had ears now. Underneath all her pent-up frustration and fury, she was empty. Drained of all emotions that kept her human. She felt dangerous, like a monster. And she didn’t want to release it.

He looked down at her with confusion written on his face. He went through all the things that happened the past few days. He couldn’t think of anything. There was a supply run, taunting the Alexandrians and occupying himself with his wives.

Oh. Oh hell.

His eyes grew wide in realization as he looked back at her and saw the hurt along with the unshed tears in her eyes.

“Now you remember, huh?” she scoffed, crossing her arms, “You’re so pathetic.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but hers was faster. “You can’t even keep your dick in your pants. It’s almost sad, you know?” she spat, “I really believed that you’ve changed, but I was mistaken. Again.”

Negan became more annoyed with every plain word of truth she spat at him.

Was it so hard for him to stick with one woman?

Yes. Yes, it was.

“So now you lost your voice? Th-” Her voice grew louder with each word she spoke and cracked. “That’s so typical for you! You have a big mouth all the time. But when shit hits the fan, you pack your bags and decide it’s not your war anymore!”

“I would’ve spoken a long time ago if you wouldn’t have interrupted me!” He retorted.

Viv scowled but kept her mouth shut, giving him the sign to continue.

“I don’t know why I did it, okay? I have no fucking excuse!” he sighed, pacing his room. “I wanted to go the right ways with you. Make up for the mistakes I did with my wife.”

Negan had told Viv about Lucille. But when he spoke about his actual wife, not his baseball bat, he wasn’t able to say her name. It still haunted him. She knew that he had cheated on her several times and that she always stayed by his side. He was still not over her death. Hell, he didn’t have the time to grieve.

But in this moment, Viv didn’t find a single fuck to give. He had hurt her and she wanted to do the same now.

“I’m not her.” she muttered.

Negan looked at her, not sure if he heard her right. “The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m not her!” Viv spoke up, “I will keep telling you this. I’m not her and I’ll never be her! You can’t make up for your mistakes with her, your past, by not making them with another person. And I won’t stay like Lucille did.” She added the last part to herself, but he heard her loud and clear.

Negan clenched his jaw and gulped so she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. He began to charge at her and trapped her between the door and himself with a loud thud.

His eyes held a rage inside them that she hadn’t seen before. If possible, they would have been glowing red and set her on fire.

“You listen to me very careful now,” he started with an angry, shaky voice. “if you ever dare to speak about my wife like that again. I will not hesitate to punish the living shit out of you. Do we understand each other?”

Viv didn’t show any reaction whatsoever. She felt heartbroken and blamed herself for his cheating ways. She began to doubt herself but still felt an unusual emptiness deep down.

He slammed her wrists again the door, “I asked you something, doll. Do we understand each other?”

Viv winced and closed her eyes, feeling like a lost puppy confronted by a wolf. “Y-Yes.” She whispered. She didn’t notice the tears building up in her tears until they started rolling down her cheeks.

She went to wipe the tears away, but Negan still had a painful grip on her wrists. She wiggled her arms until he let her go. Wiping her tears away didn’t help her much, there were only more flowing down her cheeks.

Negan’s eyes widened, shocked that he was trapped in his past rage at himself and let it out on Viv.

“Viv, I-” he began but she cut him off by her holding her hand up.

Her interactions with him confirmed her suspicions. Negan was still holding onto something, or rather somebody, who was the opposite of his wife. And, she didn’t have a home anymore. Hell, she didn’t know if she had a home to begin with.

She turned away from him and had the doorknob in a tight grip. Negan went to stop her, but he was too late.

Viv was gone and, for once, he couldn’t do anything about it.

—

[yourcroweater]

A Little Wicked - Part III

Chibs x Vivi (oc)

Part 1, part 2.

Warnings:: swearing

I’ll probably have part 4 up tomorrow. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you wanna get tagged in my stories.

Reminder that the gifs aren’t mine, found them on google, tell me if you want me to give you credit or take them down.

It was a shitty day.

I haven't had a day this shitty since I first woke up in the hospital after Pete almost killed me. Sure, I woke up that day feeling half dead with a needle stuck on my hand, cold like I've never felt before and a weird tingling sensation on my back from the huge slash Pete cut open.

Today was kinda like that -- except the huge slash on the back was metaphorical. Maybe I'm exaggerating, I'm known for doing that, but it's not everyday someone gets fired because they don't "represent the brand". Not when I've worked in the same clothing store for the past three years.

It was my day to open shop so I had exchanged a real great night of sex with Chibs (possibly great, I hadn't really gotten to the good part before Chibs had to go tend to club business) to be responsible. And I got fired.

"We're cutting on budget." My manager, Karen, told me after I asked why she was firing me.

"No you're not. You hired three girls last week and you're opening another store on Stockton. That's a bullshit excuse." Probably shouldn't have said that if I wanted to keep the job but my nerves got the best of me.

She gave me a sour smile behind that hideous fringe of badly dyed blonde hair.

"Okay. We're not cutting on budget. We're cutting you out, exactly because of that type of language."

I just stared at her.

"I never use this type of language with anyone here." I crossed my arms over my chest, my purse swinging back and forth between Karen and I. I had just been leaving for my lunch break, which I was going to share with Chibs, when Karen stopped me on my way out to deliver the news.

Karen looked back at me with her honey colored eyes. While her hair was kind of a mess -- if she was nicer I would have given her my hair stylist's number -- her makeup was always carefully applied.

"Alright." She crossed her arms, same as me. "You want the truth? I'm firing you because you don't represent the brand anymore." She looked me up and down to make her point.

I almost looked down to see what she meant -- I wasn't wearing anything that was so "out of brand", just jeans, high heeled boots, a red shirt that showed a bit of cleavage, I was also holding onto a leather jacket -- but I saw when her gaze stopped on the tattoo on my inner forearm. The tattoo wasn't anything too special, I had gotten black and white roses there when I turned 18. More recently I had gotten a rattlesnake that circled the roses. Suddenly, I got why Karen was firing me.

"You're firing me because I'm friends with the big bad bikers?" I said, unable to conceal my mocking smile. I went from disbelief to mockery in a flash.

"Your, um, association with the motorcycle gang is one of the reasons, yes."

"It's a club, not a gang." I said automatically.

"People are afraid, Vivienne. Places were blown up in Charming, people killed at that whorehouse you call Diosa. Everyone knows you're with the bikers. You being here is just not good for business." She tried to give me an apologetic smile to her credit.

I uncrossed my arms, feeling miserable and weirdly protective of the club. The thought of explaining that none of that was actually the club's fault crossed my mind but it would be useless. People were afraid, I could see it in their faces when the rumbling of motorcycles were heard or when I strolled down the street with other crow eaters.

If I was Gemma I would probably tell Karen to shove her opinions where the sun don’t shine and part with a threat. But I just didn’t have the energy to do it.

"This is bullshit." I repeated, pulling on my jacket before I walked out.

I sat down on the hood of my car, a chalk white Ford Thunderbird I inherited from my dad after he died of cancer, to wait for Chibs. It was parked right in front of the clothing store I (now) used to work in and I kept staring at it grudgingly.

Sitting on midday sunlight would be uncomfortable on summer but the low winter temperature made me glad there was sun. The sun on my face helped to soothe my mood. Knowing that I would get to see Chibs helped too.

I found it a bit surprising that when I went to bed last night I couldn't fall asleep right away. I kept thinking about how he reacted when I told him about Pete, how protective he suddenly became. He barely knew me but what he knew seemed to be enough for him to want to hunt down Pete. Maybe the scar on my back was enough to scare him into doing it but then again Chibs was a biker, I doubted there was much he hadn't seen.

What really kept me awake was our kiss. I kept remembering the feeling of mouth on mine, his tongue tracing my lips, his hands on my hips. It was such a nice kiss, sweet even. I had kissed almost everyone of the Samcro guys and all the kisses were lust-filled, just one of the steps before sex. But kissing Chibs didn't feel like that. I hadn't had a kiss like that in a long time, not since I was 21 and this guy I used to like kissed me. But then Pete came along with his southern charm and blue eyes and swept me away. He was all flowers, cute dates and smiles at first, yet when he kissed me it wasn't sweet. It was just fire and I thought I had finally found someone to love.

Lustful kisses are great, sure, but when you're in a shortage of sweet kisses, like I am, they feel much better. I couldn't wait to be kissed like that again. Like I was actually desired, appreciated.

My phone rang inside my purse, pulling me out of my imagination and making me jump. I looked at the number on the screen, not recognizing it.

"Hello?" I answered.

No reply.

"Hello? He-llooo?" Still no answer. "Is there anyone there?" Nothing.

I shrugged and ended the call.

I was about to put the cellphone back in my purse when it rang again. I answered it without looking at the screen this time, a little annoyed.

"Yeah?"

"Vivi, it’s Chibs.”

“Oh.” I cracked a little smile. “Did you just call me?”

“No. Am calling ye now. Lyla gave me yer number this morning.”

Okay, nice that he got my number but why would he call me? He knew where to pick me up and when. No reason for him to call me, really.

“You're not coming, are you? That’s why you're calling.” I asked slowly, my smile disappearing at once.

I heard him sigh. That was my answer. My feet started moving nervously, banging against the hood of my car.

“I'm sorry, Vivi. I hav’ to deal wit some shit. Club thing.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. Then remembering he couldn't see me I answered. “S’okay. I get it. We can do it some other time.”

I understood it. Once you spend almost everyday of the past three years among Samcro, it's easy to get how the club comes above pussy. It's a business and a brotherhood. Pussy isn't that powerful, unless you're an old lady, then you matter a little more. I lived by this, I accepted it so I felt a little stupid when I realized how hurt I was that Chibs wasn't meeting me.

We had kissed and talked, that was it. Why was I hurt?

“Aye. I gotta go.” He hung up.

I threw my phone inside my purse and ran a hand through my blonde hair. Fired and dumped. Great. Truly fucking fantastic. I reached inside my purse for my cigarettes and my lighter. I lit one, squinting at the sun and at the smoke that went straight for my eyes when my phone rang again. I let it ring as I jumped off the Thunderbird’s hood with my purse and strolled down the street to find a restaurant to have lunch.

I had walked one block when my phone stopped ringing, only to start ringing shortly after.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I said, stopping mid step to retrieve my phone from my purse. I didn’t recognize the number. “What?!” I said loudly, getting weird looks from people going by.

“Viv, it’s me. I need you.” I recognized my brother’s voice at once and he sounded miserable. I forgot all about being jobless and dateless in a second.

“Claude?” I frowned my brows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Can you pick me up?”

“Where are you?”, I pivoted and started going back to my car.

I parked in front of the police station, grabbed my purse and got out of my car muttering curses. Being the older sister sucked sometimes.

My mom had spent most of her life drunk so she never did much to take of me and my siblings. My dad tried to be the best parent he could be but most of the time he had been clueless on how to raise three teens while my mom laid passed out of the couch. So being the eldest I assumed the mom role: I learned how to cook, how to do laundry, clean up the house, reminded my dad to pay the bills. Playing mom also came along with taking care of my brother and sister like they were my kids.

 I made sure they had clean clothes, did their homework and all that, which sometimes makes me sound like an angel, but I wasn’t. This much responsibility was too much for teenager me so I had my fair share of rebelling: I got into fights, started smoking when I was 14, drinking when I was 15, almost got kicked out of school for threatening this stupid boy with a knife.

Thing was, after the three of us became adults I assumed all of us would grow some responsibility. My sister, Juliette, was pretty responsible. She was finishing college, had a job, all the likes. I eventually sorted my shit out, got ahold of my short fuse and got married to an asshole. My brother was too pretty for his own good, he was also as lazy as they come.

I barged in the police station, my hand itching to smack some sense into my brother. He was 22, he should know better.

“Eglee!” I called going over to her. She looked up from her station with a little smile. “The dumbass you picked up last night for drunk and disorderly, that’s my brother.” I pointed at the blonde long-haired man behind the glass cell. He waved guiltily at me. “How much do I have to pay?”

Eglee looked between the two of us, probably trying to see the resemblance.

“Isn’t your last name Crane? In his driver license the last name is Morris. Just trying to make some sense here.” She explained as she pulled some files from a drawer in her desk.

I fidgeted nervously on my feet. I didn’t want to explain it to Eglee, but then again changing your name isn’t a crime. I had legally changed after all. See? No crime. I’m a good crow eater.

“I changed it. Morris is my maiden name, Brown when I got married. Now it’s Crane.”

“Can I ask you why?” She asked with raised brows while she handed me the release papers to sign and a pen. I sat on one of the chairs across her desk to sign them.

“Crazy ex-husband.” I explained without looking up from the papers, hoping she would take the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it. She kept quiet and I silently thanked her for it. “So how much do I have to pay?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

I almost dropped my pen. “Six hundred?! That’s a lot of money.”

Eglee shrugged. “It could be worse, but your brother cooperated when we got him. He’ll have to do a few months of community service, too.”

“Oh, goodie.” I sang, rolling my eyes. Eglee giggled.

“You’re gonna pay me back my six hundred bucks.” I told Jean-Claude as we walked out of the station. He smelled strongly of tequila and had bags under his eyes. He gave me a little snort, one I knew very well meant ‘as if’. I slapped the back of his head and he yelped. “Yes, you are!” I pointed my index finger at him.

“Okay, I am!” He rubbed the back of his head with one hand while grimacing. “Jesus, Viv, why are you in such a bad mood?”

“Don’t ask.” I gave his shoulder a little push so we would go down the stairs to the parking lot. He complied. “Why are you Charming, anyway?”

“I came to see you.”

I stopped at the end of the stairs and grabbed him so he would look at me. I was a few inches shorter than him but Jean-Claude always made himself look a bit smaller when I was about to tear him a new one. He kept his shoulders and head down when he looked up with green eyes to me.

“How come you always know when I’m lying?” He took a deep breath. “Okay, I sorta got evicted. And I’m broke. I was kinda hoping you’d let me live with you until I got back on my feet.”

My jaw fell a little and I grabbed my purse with both hands so I wouldn’t slap him.

“What the fuck, Claude? You lost dad’s house?” I knocked him with my purse, then, not being able to hold myself. “What did you fucking do?!” I yelled. I hated yelling at him. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath so I would calm down.

“I lost my job a few months back, I thought I could get by with my savings until I got a new job. But I ended up spending most of the money on booze, weed and parties. Kinda forgot I had to pay bills, heh.” He forced a smile.

“Listen here, shithead.” I got really close to him and jammed a finger into his chest. “I’m gonna let you live with me because I’m your sister and I love you, but things are gonna change from now on. You’re gonna cut down on alcohol and drugs and I wanna see a real effort, ya hear me? You’re gonna get a job, I don’t care which, just don’t get a sugar daddy. That’s not a job and there aren’t any sugar daddies in this town. And you’re gonna cut down on dick too.” He opened his mouth to protest and I hit him with my purse again. “Dick doesn’t dictate your life, okay? Remember that guy you dated a while back? He moved to Seattle and you went after him without thinking about what could happen. You came back to Cali with a broken heart and without money. If dad hadn’t helped you get a job when you got back you’d be on the street ‘cause I sure as hell wasn’t gonna be so nice to you back then.” I stopped, thinking if there was anything to add and then shook my head. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Dick can’t dictate my life, but you can?” He said, smiling.

“I raised your ass, sure I can dictate your life. And if I don’t see a real change here, Claude, I’m shipping you off back to Sacramento.” I threatened. Alright, I wouldn’t do that to him but a little threat never hurt anyone. “Where are your things?”

“The shithead who gave me a ride from Sacramento to Charming stole them. Said it was payment for bringing me here.” 

So my brother had no clothes and no money. Which meant I’d have to buy him clothes. ‘Cause I had money growing out of trees.

“You hungry?” I sighed.

I heard his stomach grumbling just then and he laughed.

“C’mon, sis, let’s feed me.” He threw one arm around my shoulders and we started crossing the parking lot to the Thunderbird.

I stopped walking when my eyes drifted to the end of of the parking lot. My chest suddenly hurt. My brother stopped walking too. He brought me closer when he saw my face and looked around.

“What is it?” He asked.

I didn’t look at him.

I stared at Chibs, sitting on his bike, smoking and smiling at Jarry, who was standing by the bike with one hand on the grip. I felt my heart sink, actually felt it. Seeing him smiling at Jarry when he should have been having lunch with me caused me physical hurt. I almost couldn’t breathe. I didn’t understand why it hurt. It made no sense.

People only hurt that much when they like someone. Was last night enough to make me fall in love with Chibs, if only a little bit? No, I decided. I was just needy, that was it. I just wanted somebody to like, or somebody to like me back.

Why was he here with her? It was just him. No Tig, no Happy, no Quinn, or Rat or Montez. None of the guys. It didn’t look like a club thing to me. It looked like a pleasant talk with his goddamn ex. Was she even his ex? He told me he wasn’t seeing her anymore, but he had skipped on our date to meet her. Maybe they were getting back together, which honestly sounded like a terrible idea to me. A cop and a criminal? Like that’s gonna work.

“Who’s that?” Jean-Claude asked pointing at Chibs, without even trying to be discreet. I slapped his hand so he would lower it.

“He’s part of the don’t ask.” I answered, glancing his way.

“Oh, I see. You give me a whole speech about cutting on dick and here you are pining after dick. How’s that fair?” He chuckled while patting my shoulder. I looked at him to tell him to shut up and leave it alone so I saw when he raised his eyebrows, looking past my head. “He saw you, Viv. He’s coming over. What do you want me to do?”

I turned on my heels to see Chibs striding over to us. He looked a bit panicked, which made me feel better. He probably knew he fucked up. I caught Jarry looking at me with a frown but her expression quickly softened when I stared back at her.

I could get in my car with my brother and speed away. I could just ignore every word Chibs would say to me. I could let him try to explain it. Actually, I was curious what excuse he would come up with.

I shoved my purse into my brother’s arms. “Get in the car. I’ll be there in a second.”

He met my eyes to make sure I was serious. I nodded at him and he nodded back. He shot Chibs a look before getting in the passenger side of the Thunderbird.

I crossed my arms just as Chibs reached me. He threw his cigarette to the side and ran a hand through his greying hair.

“Vivi…”

“It’s a club thing, right?”

“It is.”

“C’mon, Chibs, I’m blonde but I’m not dumb.” I told him.

“I know what it must’ve looked like, but it really is club business.” He put his hands on his hips and I raised my brows at him to let him know I wasn’t buying it. He sighed. “Jarry… She’s in our payroll. I hav’ to talk to her to sort out things for th’ club. She won’t talk to anyone else but me, there’s trust.”

“Of course she would trust you when you’re fucking her.” I hissed back.

Chibs stared at me, the corners of his mouth playing into a smirk. “You’re jealous, aren’t ye? Ye don’t get to be jealous when ye were jus’ hugging that lad.” He pointed at Jean-Claude inside the car without looking at his direction.

“That’s my goddamn brother, Chibs. She’s your ex. You cancelled our date to go meet your ex.” I pointed at Jarry, who was now going up the steps to the station, not really caring that she would see or hear me.“How was I not supposed to get a little bit jealous?”

Chibs looked between me and my brother, pulling a face that made his scars deepen into his cheeks. People always did a double take. All my brother and I had in common was hair and eye color.

“I’m sorry, Vivi.” He said, meeting my eyes. I almost mellowed out but then I remembered how much it hurt seeing his smile to Jarry. “I don’t know what else to tell ye. Jarry is jus’ club business now, I swear.”

I normally don’t lose my shit, but I felt like I was about to. And I did lose it.

“Look, Chibs, I’m having a shitty day. You and Jarry were just the cherry on top. But let me tell you something,” I leaned forward and did my best to lower my voice “if you wanna fuck her and fuck me too, I'm cool with it. I’m a crow eater, you tell me to fall on my back with my legs open and I will because that’s what I’m good for, right?” I forced a charming smile as I said it. “Just don't set dates with me, don't kiss me like you goddamn mean it and don't you fucking lie to me.”

He shook his head head to the sides while biting his lower lip, while his eyes looked around aimlessly. 

“I don't need this shit.” He said.

“Me neither!” I said. I turned around and strode over to the car with trembling hands.

I didn’t even know why I was this mad. It had been a while since I lost control.

Chibs called my name when I opened the car door. He called me again when I slid inside the car without looking at him.

“Keys are in the ignition.” Jean-Claude told me as I slammed the door behind me.

“Don’t do this, lass. ‘Mon, talk ta me.” Chibs stopped in front of the car, placing his hands on the top of the hood. 

I started the car and put my foot on the pedals, making the engine roar and drowning whatever else Chibs was saying to me.  

“Move the fuck out of the way!” I screamed out the window. 

Chibs raised one eyebrow with a mocking smile on his face. My body got hot all over -- I didn’t know if it was because I was angry at Chibs or if it was because I was angry at myself for still thinking he was a sexy motherfucker even after what he just played.

“Yer gon’ run me over, Vivi?” he taunted.

My hands tightened on the wheel as I stared back at Chibs with narrowed eyes.

“He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” Jean-Claude asked while placing both his hands on the car’s dashboard. 

“No, he doesn’t.” I answered. I jammed my foot on the gas pedal and the Thunderbird shot forward. Chibs stepped to the side just in time. 

I hightailed out of the parking lot, holding back anger tears.

@sam-samcro

@i-am-the-luna

@soafanficluvr1

@jaaxtellerasf

@telford-ortiz-teller

@grungedaddykinks

[one-day-i-will-write]

Truths

Helion x Lady of Autumn, who doesn’t have a name and I couldn’t remember what she looks like...

As for her personality in this, I think while at the autumn court she kind of retreated into herself. Once beron is dead, I expect she would return to her former personality though she’d have some demons. Basically, her personality here is how I imagine she was pre-beronthedickbag.

Let me know what you think.

The news of Eris overthrowing his father spread through the land like wildfire. It wasn’t long before the news reached Helion, whispered in his ear by a courtier. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain passive, to not react.

It didn’t last long.

Thunder cracked as he winnowed to the Autumn Court. The other High Lords were gathered, waiting to see who would become High Lord. When Helion glanced at the Night Court retinue, he couldn’t decide who was less happy to be there: Lucien or Morrigan. By some stroke of fate, Lucien turned to face him at that moment.

He had avoided looking Lucien in the face for centuries. Did not want to see what was there. The features of his love, a reminder of what they had lost.

Everyone was gathered in a large hall, seats appeared as High Lords got tired of waiting. Thesan and his lover talked in the corner, Kallias and Viviane spoke with those in the Night Court, no doubt so the High Lady of Winter could support her friend.

Helion studied Lucien. He had never noticed, there was something familiar about him. Not from the Autumn Court, but he was having trouble pinpointing it. He was so lost in thought that he barely registered it when Lucien jolted to attention. Then he felt her walk into the room.

Helion turned to see the Lady of Autumn walk into the room. His entire world focused on her. The long red hair, the fair skin dashed with light freckles, and for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, a brilliant smile decorated her face. Lucien returned the smile, moving to hug his mother.

She laughed, and it was sweet and happy and Helion could feel his heart break because he hasn’t heard that in so long. She was talking animatedly with Lucien, both smiling as they caught up on each others lives. Helion wasn’t quite prepared when her gaze turned to him.

She looked shocked. Then, she was biting her lip and dragging Lucien over to him. Nervous. Why would she be nervous to talk to him? And why would she bring Lucien over, they have barely ever spoken.

Then it clicked. The darker skin tone, the nose, those were his. Lucien looked like him. Helion briefly remembered that Lucien had broken Hybern’s spell. That magic wasn’t Autumn. It was Day. It was him.

His son.

His son watched as his first love was murdered. His son was chased from his home after watching his mother be abused for years. His son was nearly killed by his own brothers. His son had his eye ripped out by that Hybernian bitch. His son suffered Under the Mountain.

And he never knew.

Helion couldn’t breathe. All the things he missed. He never protected him. His son had been left alone in the world, used and abused, and h was strong enough to thrive.

“Helion.” His love’s voice, sweet and timid, broke through his thoughts. He realized he’d been staring at Lucien, who now looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Hestia.” He breathed her name, the sound of it flooding him with contentment.

They stayed silent for a moment. Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but by the furrowing of his brows he had no idea what to say so he simply shut it again. Helion was still watching him.

“Hestia.” Helion breathed, and he realized he was nervous. But he was also hopeful. “Is he-.”

Helion shook his head, he didn’t need to ask. The small smile Hestia gave him confirmed as much.

“Am I what?” Lucien asked, quickly and a little annoyed. “You two are acting strange. Which, I expect from Helion but you mother-”

“My son.” Helion smiled, and he glowed, damn him. A cough off to the side drew his attention, Feyre and Rhys were watching with rapt attention and obnoxious smiles. Of course the bastard knew.

“Pardon?” Lucien asked, blank faced and maybe a little confused.

“Luc,” Hestia started, getting her son-their son-to look at her. “Helion and I…we…Cauldron boil me this is more difficult than I thought.”

“Fairly certain the boy knows how babies are made, Hes.” Helion joke, only to have Hestia stick her tongue out at him. Cauldron, she was back and free and he loved her with everything he is.

“Beron isn’t-wasn’t-my father, but Helion is?” Lucien talked slowly, still processing. Join the club, son. Helion decided he liked that. Son. But did Lucien?

“I know this is probably not ideal, Lucien, but-”

“Not ideal?” Lucien interrupted. “Are you joking? You just told me the man who abused me and my mother, killed the first person I ever truly loved, and repeatedly insulted my closest friend-“

“Aw, love you too Luc.” Feyre shouted back, obviously eavesdropping.

“I was talking about Cassian, but you’re okay too.” Lucien rolled his eyes, though a laugh escaped him as Feyre shot him a rude gesture while Cassian blew him a kiss. “Anyway, that monster was not my father. And you think telling me this is bad news? I feel so much lighter now.”

“And you don’t mind me being your father?” Helion asked, hopeful and nervous still. He didn’t like these feelings.

“Cauldron, no, you may be a bit of a prick-“

“Don’t you talk to your father like that!” Mor shouted, earning a slap on the arm from Viviane

“-but you’re a good male.” Lucien’s face turned dark. “If you ever hurt my mother, however, I will burn to dust father or no.”

“Don’t worry about that, I would never hurt my mate.” Helion said, before that really hit him. Lucien’s face turned unreadable, Hestia was shocked but slowly transitioning into unrelenting happiness.

“Did no one bring snacks? This is getting good.” Cassian shouted out this time, earning a slap on the arm from Mor and Az each.

“You’re mask is a bit cracked today, my Lord.” Hestia was beaming now and Helion could feel the joy through the bond, finally shining through years of heartbreak and repressed feelings.

“Don’t call me my Lord.” Helion spoke low, moving forward to hold Hestia and rest his forehead against hers. “Because, if you’ll have me, you will be the High Lady of Day and will never bow to anyone ever again. Least of all to me.”

“You are mine and I am yours.” Hestia smiled, leaning up to kiss him. He could practically hear Mor and Viv’s gossiping already.

“Good.” Helion smiled, happier than he has been in a very long time. “We best start training my heir, I can’t wait to dress him in Day Court attire.”

“You know, I do believe I have things to do. Important emissary business.” Lucien coughed, looking to Feyre and Rhys for help. Mistake.

“Actually, you’re schedule is completely free.” Rhys smiled

“You bastard.” Lucien growled, half-heartedly.

“I do believe you’re the bastard, Lucien, darling.” Rhys responded with a smirk.

Helion held Hestia while they waited to see which of her other sons would take the throne. Lucien and Rhys continued their banter for a while, eventually his son returned to ask questions about the Day Court’s inner workings.

Helion caught Rhys’ eyes while Hestia talked with Lucien about what they’ll do now that they can spend time together. His oldest friend smiled, honest and true, and connected their minds.

Sure you’ll be okay settling down?

If you can do it, batsy, so can I.

You always did love copying me.

Helion rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his family. A deep, instinctual part of him knew that he would do anything for them. Helion took a moment to thank the cauldron for everything he’d been given. Then, he started planning a ceremony for his mate and his son

[quickeningheart]

Seven

   Alley managed to dig up enough ingredients to throw together a decent breakfast, making a mental note to buy extra food the next time she made a grocery run. She had a feeling that taking meals with Charley’s furry house guests was a regular occurrence, but she’d be damned if she ended up living on hot dogs and root beer like the rest of them. Luckily, Vivian Davidson was an amazing cook and had managed to pass a fair amount of skill on to her daughter. Grocery shopping, cooking regular meals, and cleaning the apartment seemed like a fair exchange for room and board, in Alley’s opinion. She cracked eggs into a bowl and added milk, butter, a touch of salt. However, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets in search of a mixer left her empty-handed.

   “Do you have an electric mixer?” she called to Charley, who was still on the couch nursing her wounded foot. The mice were gathered there with her, watching television. And like before, Charley had made herself cozy, all cuddled up to the white mouse. Alley’s eyes narrowed as she watched them.

   Charley didn’t seem to notice her cousin’s disapproval. “I used to,” she replied. “It ran into an accident a few months ago and I never got a replacement.”

   Alley snorted. “I see. And is ‘accident’ code for ‘giant hairy Martian’, by chance?”

   The mice immediately protested, but Charley just laughed. “You learn fast.”

   Alley sighed. “Right. Old-fashioned way it is.” She grabbed a fork from the drawer and began beating her egg mixture into a frothy whip, pouring the mess into the extra-large fry pan heating on the stove. The beat-up pan hissed and sputtered, and she shook her head. “No offense, Charley, but all of your cookware is in serious need of an upgrade. Where did you get this thing, a toy store?”

   “Nah. I dug it out of a dumpster a few years ago. Perfectly good frying pan!” Charley teased.

   “Okay, that had better be a joke, ‘cause ew .” Alley shot her a disgusted glance. “And I am adding ‘cast-iron skillet’ to the Long List of Things Charley Needs to Buy. You will thank me when your cheap-ass cookware doesn’t catch fire and burn down your building.”

   “Hey, I’ve used this stuff for years and the only time anything catches fire is when these lunkheads try and cook for me!”

   “And you keep letting them into your apartment why?” Alley asked over more protests.

   Charley laughed. “I dunno. I guess they just kinda grew on me.” She gave the sulking mice a teasing wink.

   “Like mushrooms,” Alley added with a snort, turning back to her eggs that were in danger of burning. “I need the bacon out of the fridge. It’s in the side compartment.” She emptied the finished eggs into a large serving bowl and covered the top with a plate to keep them from cooling.

   A few moments later, a golden hand thrust into her line of sight, clutching a pack of raw bacon. “Smells good,” Throttle commented, sniffing appreciatively.

   “Thanks,” she muttered, a little spooked to have the mouse standing so close behind her; she had the oddest feeling it wasn’t the eggs he’d just been sniffing at, but her suspicious glare didn’t even phase him as he calmly slit open the package and held up a slice of bacon, studying it curiously as if it was a particularly interesting bug. She raised an eyebrow, amused by his scrutiny. “One would almost think you’ve never seen raw meat before.”

   His eyes crinkled behind his shades as he grinned down at her. “Sure I have. It’s usually on the other guy’s face after I get done pummeling it a few times,” he teased.

   “That … is really something to be shared on a need-to-know basis, and I did not need to know.” She shot him a disgusted look, taking the bacon to add it into the pan.

   He chuckled. “Anything else I can do, princess?”

   “How kind of you to offer. You can set the table for me, if you promise not to break the dishes. Or set it on fire.” She offered her sweetest smile, ignoring his deadpan expression, before quickly turning her attention to the bacon when it began crackling in earnest, spitting hot grease into the air.

   The phone rang loudly, and Charley heaved herself off the couch--with the help of a crutch she’d dug out of a closet--and picked up the cordless hanging on the wall. After a few moments, she limped into the kitchen, holding it out by the antenna. "It's for you."

   It took Alley a second to realize it was being offered to her. She blinked. “Who’d be calling me?”

   “Oh, I dunno. Maybe that mother you left behind in Florida. You know, the one who has been waiting to hear from you for the past few days now?”

   Alley winced. “Oh. Her.”

   Charley narrowed her eyes. “You did at least call to let her know you arrived safely, right ?”

   "Ummm…" Alley rummaged until she unearthed a pair of salad tongs, plucking the finished bacon from the pan onto a large plate. “I was … getting around to it…” she hedged.

   "Alley Davidson!" Charley shook her head. "I can't believe you! No wonder she's pissed!"

   "Come on, you can hardly blame me if I've been a little distracted ." Alley waved the tongs in the general direction of the table, around which the mice had gathered as Throttle finished setting it with mismatched plates. They weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t listening in, all eyes trained on the women.

   "Talk to her."

   She pulled a face. "Now?"

   "No, next Tuesday. Yes, now."

   "I can't handle being yelled at this early in the morning," Alley grumbled. “Besides, I’m making breakfast.”

   “Breakfast is done. We’ll eat. You talk.” Charley plucked the tongs from Alley’s fingers and replaced them with the handset.

   Alley huffed. "Fine. " She marched into the living room and flopped onto the couch, four sets of eyes following her curiously. Took a deep breath and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hey, Mom. It's me. How’ve you been?" And winced when Vivian Davidson immediately started bawling her out for being such a thoughtless, forgetful, worrisome daughter. Really, the woman could probably crack windows if she set her mind to it; Alley could already feel the headache coming on.

   "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't—No, everything's—Well, it's been a little hectic for the past—" She paused and rubbed her temple irritably, scowling at her amused audience. She should’ve retreated to her room when she had the chance, but damned if she’d tuck tail and run now. "I arrived a bit later than expected, and it was too late to call then," she explained through gritted teeth. "What happened? No, nothing serious. Just a little car trouble on the way." She paused again, rolled her eyes at Charley, and mimed aiming a gun at her own head and pulling the trigger. Several times. Charley grinned back and blew her a kiss. The guys sniggered.

   Alley threw a hand in the air, finally at her wit’s end. "Look, I’m sorry I forgot to call, okay? I'm a horrible, horrible daughter. Cut me some slack! I don’t want to run up Charley’s phone bill and I haven’t had time to look for a new cell phone yet. I mean, between my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and then these random foreign dudes trying to pick me up to sell my body for spare parts, you can hardly--"

   She abruptly jerked the phone away from her ear, grinning evilly; even from the kitchen, they could hear the hysterical screeching on the other end.

   "Oh, for the love of—Give me that!" Even on a crutch, Charley made it to the couch in a second, trying to snatch the handset from her laughing cousin.

   Alley quickly scrambled out of reach. “You’ll have to do better than that!” she sang, dangling the handset tauntingly.

   “Give me that phone,” Charley growled, hobbling after her.

   “Whatsa matter, Gimpy? Can’t keep up?” Alley teased.

   “I’m gonna kick your ass!”

   “Using what, your arm?” Still laughing, Alley darted around the couch … only to have the phone plucked from her fingers by a long, white tail. “Hey! That’s cheating!” she protested, jumping to try and catch it. Vinnie only grinned, holding it well above her grasping hands before tossing it to Charley. On the other end, Vivian was still yelling.

   “Thanks, Vinnie. I owe ya,” Charley laughed. "Hey, Aunt Viv? Yeah, it's Charley again. Listen, ignore everything that brat just told you. Absolutely nothing happened, I promise." She aimed a swat at Alley's backside with the crutch as the grinning blonde slipped past, before heading down the hall to attempt some damage control. "Yeah, she did have some car trouble, but she arrived safe and sound. It's just been a little busy…" The bedroom door shut, blocking the rest of her words.

   Looking quite smug, Alley sauntered to the fridge to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Four amused gazes settled on her as she hopped up to sit on the counter, as all the chairs were otherwise occupied. "What?" she asked, all doe-eyed innocence as she calmly sipped her juice.

   Modo shook his head in disapproval, even though a grin insisted on twitching his mouth. "It weren't right, scarin' your poor mama like that," he scolded.

   Alley snorted into her cup. "Maybe. But it sure was fun.”

   Stoker barked a laugh, grinning at her unrepentant response. “You’re a bit of a brat, huh?”

   “Actually, the correct term is ‘unholy terror’. Well, according to my dad, anyway. But whatever.” She helped herself to a slice of bacon off the serving plate, then rolled her eyes at their continued scrutiny. “Look. There’s one thing you gotta know about my mom. She’s a chronic worrier.”

   “Nothin’ wrong with a parent worryin’ over a child,” Throttle grunted.

   “Not normally, no. But my mother is excessive. I mean, I once caught a head cold and she managed to convince herself I was dying of the bubonic plague.” Alley shook her head, smiling wryly. “I love my mom, but she drives me insane. That’s why I came all the way out here to go to school, to get away from her. Dad helped convince her to let me go, but only because he knew I’d go anyway, with or without her blessing, and that’d probably drive her into a nervous breakdown.”

   “So you decide to repay him by giving her one over the phone the first time she calls?” Throttle peered at her over his specs, brow raised.

   Alley snorted, crunching another slice of bacon. "Well, since she was working herself into a full-blown tizzy anyway, I figured I might as well give her an actual reason."

   Stoker barked a short laugh. "You really are an unholy terror. I like that in a woman."

   She blinked at him. "Thanks. I think."

     ~*~*~*~*~

   “Should you be working on that foot?”

   Alley eyeballed her cousin critically as she leaned over the opened backside of the VW Bus, tinkering around inside. Charley pulled her head from Priscilla’s interior, wiping her hands on a well-used rag. She waved off Alley’s concern. “Garage’s still gotta run, injury or no.”

   “Why don’t you hire some help?”

   “Are you kidding? Mechanics are expensive to employ and the Last Chance is barely scraping by as it is. Besides, I’m the best mechanic this side of the galaxy. Nobody else can do half the job I can,” she bragged. “And even aside from that , what would I tell ‘em about those guys always droppin’ by?” She jerked her thumb toward a quartet of gleaming motorcycles, which were being studiously maintained by their furry owners as they sang along to a blaring radio in horribly off-key voices.

   “Hmm. Good point. But don’t they ever help you out?”

   "Sure, but they’re no wrench jockeys. They’re good for heavy lifting and all, and they know their own bikes inside-out, but when it comes to fixing earth tech, they wouldn't know a carburetor from a spark plug." Charley glanced over at the mice with a grin. "No offense, guys!" she teased.

   “Hey, now, I resent that.” Stoker tossed her a mock-wounded glance. “I’ve got a lot more upstairs than these three lunkheads, I’ll have you know.”

   “Sure, you’re just bustin’ with brains. They’re just buried under all those cobwebs in the attic,” Charley teased.

   “Bah!” Stoker tossed a rag at her. “Keep that up, and you’re not gettin’ your present, Missy,” he teased, eyes gleaming impishly.

   Charley perked up. “Oooh, present? Is it that thing I asked for last time you came by?”

   He laughed. “Maybe.”

   “What thing?” Vinnie wanted to know. “An’ how come you didn’t bring us any presents?”

   "‘Cause you ain’t half as pretty to look at,” Stoker quipped. He glanced at Alley and winked. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t know I’d be meeting you, or I’d’ve brought you a present, too.”

   “Don’t worry about it,” Alley muttered, turning her back on him.

   He chuckled. “Still miffed about that, I see. Anything I can do to make it up?”

   Alley flushed and opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do … until Charley stuffed a sock in it.

   Well, it was really a rag, but still.

   The mice cracked up as Alley squealed and yanked the cotton out, wiping her mouth and spitting. “ Charley! I can’t believe you just did that!” she screeched. “That’s disgusting! You probably just poisoned me, you know!”

   “Relax, princess. It was a clean rag.” Charley laughed and rapped the back of Alley’s head with her knuckles, dodging her playful swipe. “Anyway, I finished checking out your bus.”

   "And? What's the verdict, Doc?"

   She shrugged. "Honestly? You'd be better off selling this clunker and getting yourself a new car," she replied. "I'm seriously amazed you managed to make it all the way out here with as little trouble as you had."

   "You can't fix it?" Alley couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.

   Charley snorted. “Don’t insult me. I can fix anything. But it's gonna take time. Your transmission is almost shot and don’t get me started on the brakes! If you want to be able to drive it safely, it’s gonna need a lot of work, and authentic replacement parts are gonna be pricey."

   "What kind of pricey are we talking here?"

   Charley patted her shoulder. "Get yourself a new car, kid. A nice little compact that’ll be way better on gas mileage. I know some people who could get you a great deal on a trade-in.”

   "Aw, come on!" Alley cried. "I can't just give her up like that! I love Priscilla! She’s a classic!" She dramatically threw her arms around the bus, as far as she could reach. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t lose you without a fight!”

   Charley rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Look, if you're that determined to keep her, I'll call in some favors and see about getting some parts. But you'll have to get yourself a job unless you want your savings eaten up by this hunk of metal. And I'll have to work on her around my schedule. As you can see, I'm pretty overloaded as it is." She gestured around the garage, littered with cars and motorcycles in various stages of repair.

   “Maybe I can help?” Alley suggested.

   “You?” Charley raised an eyebrow, taking in her cousin's ensemble of another frilly blouse and fluttery, knee-length skirt. Strappy heeled sandals with pale blue ribbons winding up her calves completed the look. "Not in that girly get-up, you can't."

   “I don’t mean right this second, but hello, I did grow up in a garage just like you, remember? I know my way around a toolbox.”

   “Oh, yeah?” Charley grinned and rummaged around her trolley cart, holding up a tool. “Prove it.”

   Alley crossed her arms smugly. “That’s obviously a ratchet wrench with a … three-eighth inch drive socket attached.”

   “And these?”

   “Vice Grip pliers. Tempered steel. Shiny.”

   “Not bad. How about this?”

   Alley sniffed. “Standard spark plug gauge. Really, is that all you got?”

   “Okay, brat, tell me what those are, and what they’re used for.” Charley nodded to two pieces of equipment parked by the half-completed Mustang.

   Alley pursed her lips and flipped back her hair. “Please. The first one is a hydraulic engine crane, obviously used to lift and move engines. Second one looks like a thirty-ton shop press. Used for various jobs. Oh, and that fancy get-up over there?” She pointed to a large, computer-like console near the garage door. “Looks an awful lot like an air conditioning service station.”

   Charley whistled. “Looks like you know your stuff.”

   “Of course I do!” Alley nodded toward a rack of tires. “Nice equipment there, too. Tire changer, alignment, balance, and … ooooo, is that a nitrogen filling station and generator I see? We are going high-class, aren’t we? Dad would be jealous.”

   Charley laughed and gave her a playful shove. “All right, smartass, you proved your point. You know your way around a garage. But knowing and doing are two different things. When’s the last time you actually got your hands dirty?”

   “Hmmm…” Alley tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I might’ve been twelve. Maybe thirteen.” She grinned at her cousin’s expression. “What? Dad always said fixing engines is like riding a bike. Once you learn, you don’t forget.”

   “All the same, how about we start you off on something a little easier. And less likely to get you killed if you slip up.”

   “Weeelll … I couldn't help noticing that huge pile of unorganized paperwork overflowing on your sales desk over there. At least, I'm assuming that's a desk. That is a desk, right?"

   Charley shot her a deadpan look. Alley grinned. "I might not have tinkered around an engine for a few years, but I did do most of the filing and paperwork in Dad’s shop. Filled out orders, made appointments. Made sure needed parts and equipment were kept in stock. That sort of thing. I was sort of his unofficial co-manager-slash-secretary. It’s how I earned most of my money, actually, aside from some other odd-jobs here and there."

   Charley thought for a moment. She did hate filing paperwork, and tended to leave it “for later” as often as possible. Unfortunately, “later” always seemed to come … well … later, and she was always too tired to deal with it, thus leaving her with the current mess of scattered bills, sales receipts, and jotted appointments in their haphazard piles on the desk. A secretary did indeed sound like a wonderful idea. "Didn't you have to go to the college today?" she asked.

   "I have all day. Besides, not going anywhere with my ride out of commission."

   "You’re welcome to borrow the truck, you know,” Charley offered. “Or you can probably catch a ride with one of the guys. Although, I wouldn’t recommend wearing a skirt. A bit drafty for a bike, I think.”

   Alley wrinkled her nose. “The truck will be fine, thanks.”

   Charley nodded, gestured at Alley to follow her. "Okay. then. Your mission, since you chose to accept it, is to get this mess organized into their respective piles. I have payments owed, receipts for payments made, and there's an actual appointment book buried in there somewhere. There’s also a parts supply list that needs to be checked over. I need everything sorted by date and time, and logged into the computer."

   "That's a computer?" Alley eyeballed the huge behemoth of a machine.

   "Hey, don't make fun. It's a perfectly good computer," Charley sniffed, patting the top of the ancient hard drive.

   Alley smirked. "I don't wanna hear another crack about my bus from someone whose computer has been around since the Kennedy administration."

   "It is not that old!" Charley gave her a playful glare. "I built it myself, I'll have you know. Excellent memory, huge hard drive, practically hack-proof, and let's see any viruses try to worm their way into this baby. Can't get a system like this in a Best Buy!" She was clearly proud of her creation.

   "Yep. Looks like a Frankenstein to me." Alley patted the monitor. "That's a good Frankie! Who's a good boy?" she cooed, laughing and skipping away when Charley tried to grab her into a headlock. "Hey, watch the duds!"

   "Okay," Charley laughed. "I gotta get back to work. You sure you can handle this? It’s a lot to organize."

   Alley scoffed. "Not a problem, Cuz. This is what I do. It's all good!"

Next

[merlinficreview]

But It’s A Good Refrain Review!

But It’s a Good Refrain by lady_ragnell

Word Count: 23090

Alright friends, enemies and others. I decided to use this for the next review because it’s got a fairly high number of hits. I thought about doing The Student Prince next, but since I just finished reviewing a Modern Royalty AU, I thought I would do something else first. I’ve never read this fic but it sounded vaguely interesting.

The fic opens with Arthur trying to change the radio channel from some girl calling into a talk show to complain about her boyfriend. Morgana refuses to let him change the channel. “’He isn’t torturing them,’ Morgana snaps. Arthur is especially sorry that he chose to drive down with her when she’s in an even worse mood than usual due to their father refusing to donate to the charity she runs. ‘He’s listening. Something that you obviously don’t know how to understand or do, but this show really helps people.’”

Put him in his place, Morgana! Also LOL Holy First World Problems, Batman. Did you catch exactly what Morgana was pissed about? Her dad not donating to the charity she wanted him to. I mean, I guess I get it if he was donating to Republicans or something else terrible like that, but the fic doesn’t imply that it was for anything other than small animals or children. Get over it, Morgana, someone who needed that money still got it.

Anyways, Arthur tells Morgana that talk shows like that are all scripted and fake. “’He is not a fake, and I know that because—‘ Morgana stops, cheeks going pink.” Oop. Busted.

“You have! You called Dragon’s Lonely Hearts like the Billy No-Mates you are.” Damn, Arthur. Not only are you making fun of her for calling a radio show for help, you’re saying she has no friends? Harsh. Morgana says that he helped her after a bad breakup. Good. You do you, Morgana, Your brother is the worst.

“’Well, I suppose they aren’t paying him or anything,’ Arthur allows. ‘My God, you’re mercenary. I always forget that about you.’ He just raises his eyebrows, since Morgana is the one who spends her life putting a bottom line on everything, even if it is for pandas or irrigation or whatever the hell her catchall charity is supporting this week.” An irrigation charity? Ok. Sure. If I were Uther, I wouldn’t have donated to that one either. And why wouldn’t Merlin (let’s all be real honest, we know it’s Merlin) be getting paid?

Then Morgana makes fun of Arthur for not being able to hold a relationship for more than three months. Pendragon Siblings, man.

So Morgana brings up Dragon’s Lonely Hearts while out at the pub and everyone except Arthur listens to the show, which Arthur is super bitter about. Arthur is even annoyed that his girlfriend listens to it.

Let her do what she wants, Arthur.

“(The breakup with Vivian four days later, incidentally, has nothing to do with this discussion, no matter what Morgana claims. It has everything to do, however, with Vivian’s habit of telling him what sort of ring she wants and leaving wedding magazines around his flat.)” I mean, I can’t fault Arthur for not wanting to propose to his girlfriend of three months. Yikes. That warrants a discussion first rather than a breakup though. “Hey man, I’m super uncomfortable with all these marriage hints you have been dropping. We’ve only been together a few months and I’m not ready for that step.” Done.

So then Uther asks Arthur if he should do commercials for the radio show. “Arthur firmly puts paid to that idea, since he suspects the audience of Dragon’s Lonely Hearts is quite liberal and wouldn’t appreciate Uther’s philosophies.” Told you Uther was Republican.

“The rest of it he finds out when he and Mithian go out for lunch and she cheerfully slips in a story about a friend of hers who got set up on a date through the show and how her boyfriend proposed this past weekend. ‘You should put your name in,’ she says, probably just because she knows it annoys him.” Damn the whole world listens to this show.

Mithian suggests that Arthur try speed dating, which Arthur shoots down ASAP. I don’t blame him. “When he does, she makes a great point of changing the subject, and Arthur assumes that’s all he’ll hear about Dragon’s Lonely Hearts for a while, that it’s one of those odd things that seems like it’s everywhere for a few weeks before fading into obscurity again, like the time when all of his friends ended up talking to him about ducks completely by chance within the same week.” Can we please get all these random conversations about ducks? This is cracking me up for some reason.

The next scene is two weeks later. Arthur is at the gym and you guessed it, Dragon’s Lonely Hearts is playing on the radio there. Vivian is calling in and bitching about Arthur.

Good.

“Well. It sounds like the Dragon takes a deep breath from the crackle of the speakers. You sound like an intelligent woman, Viv, so you know this already, but I’ll say it anyway: if someone doesn’t change their previous behavior, then they’ll never change the way their relationships end. This bloke—Arthur, right? This bloke clearly has a pattern that’s working for him, and if he’s doing things the same way he’s always done, then sure as anything, he’ll end it the way he’s always done as well.”

Go in, Merlin! Obviously Arthur can’t have that, so he leaves the gym to go call the show and will undoubtedly prove Merlin right. The thing that is most interesting to me is that Arthur seems mostly offended that he has being trash talked on a show that his sister is probably listening to. He specifically thinks about that. That’s weird to me. Be more concerned about your boss or coworkers hearing this, Arthur.

“When he does check his phone, after a few deep breaths and a swig out of a bottle of cider, he’s got texts from nearly all of his friends. He only bothers reading Morgana’s, since hers is undoubtedly going to be the worst, and puts up with having to scoll down several times through all the HAHAHA to get to I could almost feel sorry for you if it weren’t true.” See? I would be more worried about a coworker texting me, “umm is this you they are talking about on this show?” Or my boss. How embarrassing.

Mithian calls Arthur and tells him to turn on the radio because Merlin is taking a call from a woman who is specifically calling in about men like Arthur. “’A woman called in to talk about men like you,’ she says, but under it he hears —and I have never met a man like that who wasn’t a terrible user in some strange woman’s voice.

Neither have I, to be honest, says the Dragon, laughing a little, putting Arthur’s hackles right up. I do always have to keep in mind that I’m only hearing one side of the story, but someone who breaks up after three months nearly every time, who usually only dates his friends … well, that’s a sign of someone just looking for convenience, really, not love.”

Damn straight. Read him, Merlin.

So then Arthur decides to call in to the radio show, for reals this time. I mean… I would be fairly embarrassed and humiliated too. “A cheerful woman answers the phone. ‘You’ve reached Dragon’s Lonely Hearts, can I get your name please?’ ‘Arthur,’ he says as calmly as he can manage. There’s a pause. ‘Oh, shit,’ she says quietly, and then in a much less cheerful and more timid voice she says ‘Are you going to sue us?’” LOL I like her. Keeping the important stuff in mind.

“’I am not. But I would like to say that I don’t appreciate my friends texting me to let me know that people are talking about me on a radio show and making assumptions about my character that I can’t defend against.’ Another pause, and then the woman says brightly ‘I’ll put you through!’ in a tone that Arthur recognizes from the workplace, that of someone who doesn’t want to deal with whatever problem’s been dumped in her lap, and suddenly he’s hearing what must be the end of the song playing on the radio and someone counting down quietly to prepare to go on the air.” I have 100% used that annoying, “OK then! I’ll get the manager!” cheerful voice to get rid of someone insufferable before. I like this person and hope she sticks around.

So Arthur is put on the air and complains about all his friends making fun of him. Merlin asks him to share his side of the story but Arthur won’t. I don’t know what Arthur was expecting to happen then. “There’s very little to say about the other side of the story, I’m afraid. I get in relationships that I believe will work out, and if they don’t seem to be satisfying both of us I end them.”

How romantic…

Merlin tells Arthur that’s not why you date people. “You have no right to sit in a studio and judge people you’ve never met and who don’t ask for your advice. You know nothing about me and you aren’t saying anything you couldn’t get out of a university counseling textbook or a romantic film, so I’m going to guess you don’t know much about love either.” Arthur. You called HIM. Stop. Merlin then basically hangs up on him. Good.

The next morning, Morgana angrily knocks on Arthur’s door. “’You’ve got a fucking key!’ he yells anyway…” I don’t know why this is cracking me up so much but it is. Morgana refuses to use her key. She says it’s because she’s too mad. I guess.

Morgana says she knows Arthur feels bad about being a shitty person towards Merlin and asks what he’s going to do about it. Which is… strange? I mean if I were in Arthur’s position, I would just let the guilt gnaw away at me until it dissipated over time and I no longer had the compulsion to think about it every ten seconds and it became a distant, though embarrassing memory that I just think about occasionally. I could call the show and apologize if I were in this situation but let’s be honest, I wouldn’t. Letting things fester is basically my go to response for everything.

I guess I need to work on some things.

Morgana suggests that Arthur write Merlin a letter to apologize. “Don’t say maybe, Arthur, you’ll waffle long enough to talk yourself out of it, and you hit a button last night. I’ve listened to this show a lot, and people have been awful to him, but I’ve never heard him lose his cool like that. This matters.” I do that “well maybe I’ll do this” waffling thing too.

WHY AM I IDENTIFYING WITH ARTHUR? I AM NOT OK WITH THIS TURN OF EVENTS.

And of course no one pushes Merlin’s buttons like Arthur! Even anonymously!

“He puts the toast down a second time automatically because his toaster never manages it right the first time and turns around to watch her, because she’s obviously got something else on her mind. Sure enough, the coffee isn’t even ready before she speaks again. ‘Now that that’s over with, are you okay?’” That’s sweet of Morgana and everything but let’s talk about this toast situation. If your toast isn’t heating up well enough… why don’t you just turn it up higher? If it’s at this highest level and not working, you need to get a new toaster. Or just enjoy your bread and quit bitching.

“’I don’t know why any of them are still friends with me.’ She raises her eyebrows and he turns around to butter their toast as the coffeemaker goes off and she starts pouring. ‘You I understand, since I never actually dated you, thank God, Uther would have had a heart attack when he found out, but the rest of them? As last night illuminated so clearly, I’m not a very good boyfriend, and after Leon and Elena, Percival and Mithian had to know …’”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. WAIT. I need a second here.

Why is Arthur’s go to explanation for why he and his sister still hang out because he never dated her and not because she’s his SISTER? And why is the thing Arthur fixates on in this hypothetical about how Uther would freak out about him dating his sister and not you know, ARTHUR DATING HIS SISTER? Why did Arthur even say that sentence in the first place? Why is this even a hypothetical that needs voiced? I’m starting to think that the reason Arthur’s relationships fail is because he has repressed feelings for his sister.

For some extremely baffling reason, Morgana has no comment about their dating hypothetical and just tells him they are going for a walk and he is going to buy her something for annoying her. What? Just. WHAT?

Sometime later, Merlin receives Arthur’s letter and accepts his apology live on the radio. The next day, Arthur is working and Mithian calls to inform him that Arthur’s apology letter is all over the fan sites for Merlin’s show.

So the next Friday, Arthur is once again at the gym and Merlin’s show is playing. Merlin says they’ve been getting a lot of mail about Arthur’s letter (he still doesn’t specify who it’s from). “Maybe I should be deliberately mysterious more often, if it gets my fans so excited. Maybe then I’ll get more listeners and they’ll give me more money. Right, then, I’ll cop to it, the apology was from a man who’d asked me out and now we’re making mad passionate love when I’m not on air.” Arthur starts worrying about how his friends are going to respond to this.

“Congrats on your radio boyfriend. Cannot decide if that is more or less lame than having an internet boyfriend, Percival has sent, because everyone thinks he’s an adorable gentle giant but he has a mean streak.”

It’s funny because you would never expect that from Percival.

The next week, Arthur leaves work early and goes to hang out at a café and drink coffee where Elena finds him. Because all of Arthur’s friends are creepy stalkers and far too invested in his life. She pulls up a bunch of personal ads from fans of Merlin’s show (and now Arthur, apparently) who are taking out ads to find him. Wtf? Be creepier, people.

I want to point out this though: “’So, I was looking through the personals this morning—‘ ‘Oh God, Ellie, no. I won’t date anyone who wrote to the paper, and neither will you, I thought you learned your lesson after Craigslist.’” Personal tip from me to you, never date someone you find on Craigslist. You will get murdered. The end. 

“’You have got to be kidding me,’ he mutters. ‘Morgana is behind this somehow.’ Elena eyes him. ‘You are extremely paranoid where Morgana is concerned, you know.’” I was just thinking the exact same thing, Elena. Arthur is way too obsessed with his sister. Stop it.

“’I don’t know what this is all about, since the Dragon made it quite clear that nothing was going on, but it’s getting ridiculous, and I suspect I’m going to have to lecture all of you so you won’t turn me in.’ ‘Turn you in.’ Elena snorts. ‘It’s not as if you’ve committed murder, but I wasn’t going to call in and say “oh, I know this upstanding gent, you wouldn’t happen to want to meet him for a drink, would you?”or anything else like that, because I’m not stupid.’” LOL I love Elena in this.

Elena decides to start googling stuff about this extremely odd but entertaining drama. “All sorts of threads theorizing about who the upstanding gent is, that seems to be the favorite for you rather than Mr. Right for Now, apparently the Dragon’s used that phrase quite a bit with some of his callers and this distinguishes you.” Either Merlin has a crush on Arthur for no reason or he knows exactly what’s going to get him more fans and is exploiting it.

“The prevailing theory seems to be that he isn’t dating you, but he’d like to, and that’s why all the adverts are in the papers, they think they’re doing him a favor, or that it’s like the whole Sherlock thing. Can’t figure out if it’s a show of support or an attempt to deliver you on a silver platter, though.” 

“’The silver platter, definitely,’ he tells his palms. ‘Morgana, remember? She’d like to serve me up roasted with an apple in my mouth.’” Stop being weird and paranoid about your sister, Arthur. It’s not normal.

“’Maybe Mithian and I can start making a scrapbook of all this, we’ll take it out at your wedding and talk about that time you had an imaginary romance with a radio host.’ Arthur manages a smile. ‘And who exactly, in this fantasy of yours, am I marrying? I’m on a bit of a hiatus after Vivian, if you hadn’t noticed.’ Elena grins in return. ‘Oh, maybe you’ll marry the Dragon, then it can be the scrapbook of the story of your relationship.’ ‘Never going to happen. Even if, by some freak of chance, we were to meet and not want to kill each other, I would never date him—and, more to the point, he would never date me.’”

Arthur is hanging out at his flat listening to Merlin’s show the next Friday. The show is about cheating and a couple of callers bring up Arthur, aka, “Upstanding Gent.” Merlin mentions a couple of times that he and Arthur have never even met but his callers are having none of it. One of the callers mentions his girlfriend possibly cheating on him with a celebrity. He uses a hypothetical of it being Benedict Cumberbatch. “Arthur snorts, since his friends are always teasing him for his crush on Sherlock Holmes, and waits to hear how the Dragon reacts.” I really just wanted to point this out since sometimes, Colin Morgan looks like he could be Benedict Cumberbatch’s sexy, hot younger brother and Merlin is clearly Dragon in this and Colin Morgan played Merlin.

I could go on.

Um. Anyways.

You are not subtle, Author.

Then again, neither am I.

What were we talking about? Oh right.

When the show ends, Merlin apologizes to Arthur on air for his creepy ass fans. Arthur then sends an email to the radio station. When Merlin responds, he assumes it’s another creepy fan since he’s gotten other similar emails. Arthur tells him it’s really Arthur emailing. Then Merlin responds with, “Oh, shit. You aren’t writing to say you’re going to sue or something, are you? This really isn’t something I thought would get this out of control.” I love how worried everyone working at this radio station is about getting sued. Arthur responds and says he won’t sue, but just wanted to share that his friends are making fun of him too, for the whole situation.

Arthur meets Mithian with Elena, who has a new boyfriend. “So what do you think it will be this time?” Arthur asks as Mithian takes a sip from her drink. “Wife locked in the attic, Elena looks just like his mum …” This actually made me laugh. Poor Elena. She must be super unlucky in love, damn. Mithian has a different theory, “’Neither. He’s a free spirit, she can’t expect commitment because nothing can hold him down. Possibly with the added bonus of borrowing money from her.’ ‘I’ll buy the free spirit, but not the borrowing money. Leather is expensive.’ ‘I don’t really want to ask how you know that.’ ‘I’m Morgana’s brother, so no, you don’t.’” What the hell does Morgana have to do with this conversation about leather? Arthur seriously can’t go five minutes without talking about his sister. It’s so weird.

Arthur tells Mithian he emailed the radio show and that Merlin hasn’t responded yet and Mithian is suspicious that Arthur also has a secret crush on Merlin and that’s why he’s not trying to hit on anyone during Elena’s date. Ok. “Or only related insofar as perhaps he might have been right when he called me out on dating for convenience and that I should wait for someone I can’t be logical about—and again, if you tell Morgana, I’m going to have to kill you.”  So he is accidentally taking Merlin’s original advice. Good job, Arthur.

Over the weeks, Merlin and Arthur keep emailing a little back and forth. “He listens to parts of the show whenever he happens to be in his flat while it’s airing, though he misses quite a few because Elena’s boyfriend is into clubbing and she doesn’t like going alone to meet him.” Good job, Elena! Not meeting strange men alone. Proud of you, etc. I’m also happy that Arthur and their other friends don’t seem to have any sort of problem hanging out with Elena on her dates. Though she really shouldn’t be dating someone she feels uncomfortable being alone with after a certain point.

Anyways, Cenred ends up being shitty to Elena and dumps her after they have sex. That Friday, Elena calls into Merlin’s show. Arthur starts freaking out because he is obviously listening. Elena tells Merlin she seems to always get asshole men and Merlin says he used to be like that. Then there’s secondhand embarrassment when Elena starts talking about her friends. “Oh, they definitely are. They are fine, upstanding people. Arthur is going to kill her. And Morgana, because he recognizes the muffled giggle in the background.” Merlin ignores that subtle hint and gets Elena to tell listeners about herself so he can set her up. Then, “And like I said, she winds up, I have lovely friends, if you date me you’ll probably spend quite a bit of time with them. Yes, the upstanding ones, says M, and Arthur already knows this is going to be one of the calls mentioned in their e-mail later. I know him, you know, Elena adds in a conspiratorial whisper, and either Morgana is prodding her to do it or he’s misjudged her level of cruelty.” Oh god. How embarrassing.

A couple of men call for Elena including: “Hello, Ellie, I’m Gwaine, comes the new voice when M asks for the next caller, a bit rough and Irish. Oh, shit, M whispers, but covers it over so quickly Arthur thinks he might have imagined it. Good evening, Gwaine, welcome to Dragon’s Lonely Hearts, and what makes you want to date our lovely Elena?” So hopefully he isn’t one of the people who has cheated on Merlin.

Merlin emails Arthur and asks if Elena is really his friend and Arthur says she is. Then Merlin says that Gwaine is his friend. So not an ex-cheater boyfriend. That’s good news.

The night Gwaine and Elena go in their date, Elena won’t let any of them go with her. “(Arthur’s on duty, though, and she’ll call if things do go wrong, so he feels better about leaving her than he would otherwise).” That’s a good friend, guys. Seriously.

Of course Arthur is listening to Merlin’s show and a woman is complaining about how you can’t meet people who are boyfriend material at clubs. “So maybe the club scene isn’t your place for doing that. My upstanding gent hates picking people up at clubs, it’s all a matter of where you feel most comfortable, like I said.” Merlin then emails Arthur right away to apologize for that slip. How do you “accidentally’ slip something like that about someone you aren’t dating or interesting in dating? That’s weird. Merlin has to know what saying that will do to all the creepy fans.

Elena and Gwaine have started dating and during dinner with Arthur, Elena talks about Gwaine and mentions his friends and Merlin’s name. Arthur emails Merlin later and lets him know he knows his real name. “Thanks for telling me. I don’t mind—I figured when Gwaine called in that we’re going to meet someday, and he’s been teasing me about you. I trust you not to tell the whole world you know the Dragon, so it’s fine. It really is. You keep reacting like you expect me to hate you and I don’t, I promise. There are a few lines of space, and then the signoff—this time it says Merlin instead of M. Arthur spends the whole time he’s getting ready for bed smiling.” Aww.

Morgana shows up the next Friday to drag Arthur out to the club with her and she figures out that he’s been talking to Merlin. When they get to the club, Elena introduces everyone to Gwaine. “’Gwen’s just got strange work hours sometimes, but yeah, Merlin’s a psychology student during the weeks.’ Mithian raises her eyebrows. ‘Graduate work?’ That shuts Gwaine’s face right down. ‘No, he’s almost graduated, though. He had a bit of a gap after A-levels, is all.’ Arthur thinks of Merlin mentioning a husband that first night they argued on the radio and decides he doesn’t want to hear any more of that from Gwaine.” Poor Merlin. I don’t remember him mentioning being married before though.

After some investigating, called scrolling back up to that part of the fic, Merlin did on the sly mention being married during their fight. I don’t know how I missed that.

When they leave the club, Gwaine gives Arthur Merlin’s number per Merlin’s request. Arthur then texts Merlin and Merlin tells Arthur he was fending calls about Arthur all evening. There’s some cute banter. The next show Merlin does, Arthur is listening, (obviously) and someone brings up Arthur during their call in, “I imagine it’s how your upstanding gent must feel. First he apologizes, then you claim you aren’t in contact, now you know all about his opinions on everything, the poor thing must be confused. Honestly, if he weren’t the man of my bloody dreams I’d be done by now.” Arthur texts Merlin that he isn’t confused and Merlin tells that to the caller.

Then there’s some cuteness with Arthur texting Merlin every time a caller mentions him. “You should just call in, Merlin sends at the end of the night. It would save me having to play translation service.

You underestimate your fans. They’d recognize my voice and call en masse to tell you to stay away from me.

You apologized.

They’re less forgiving than you are, I would imagine. I was awful that night.

There’s a pause. You aren’t awful now. Before Arthur can begin to think of a way to respond to that, another message comes through. Gwen’s scolding me for not paying attention and I’ve got to get home. Go to bed, Arthur.”

“Shit shit shit, he texts Mithian, without really expecting an answer, and puts down his phone for the night.” I had to space it all out because there’s no quotations and I didn’t want it to be confusing as to who was talking. It’s pretty cute and the correct way to write this sort of banter. I know I’ve read quite a few fics where authors will try to replicate the banter Arthur and Merlin have on the show and it never works because almost every single one I’ve read has had it basically just being Arthur emotionally abusing Merlin and Merlin putting up with it. This is also a good way for Arthur to bring up that he was indeed an asshole at first and for Merlin to point out that he apologized and that he’s nice to him now. That never really happens in other fics.

Elena and Gwaine make plans for Gwaine and Elena’s friends to all meet. Merlin and Arthur reassure each other they are ready to meet.

“Arthur runs into Mithian on his way to Elena’s favorite diner, and she immediately stops him, suppressing a smile. ‘You can’t wear a tie to eat chicken and terrible chips, Arthur, even if your Merlin is going to be there. Come here.’ ‘He’s not my anything,’ Arthur argues, but he lets Mithian tow him forward to unknot his tie and unbutton the top button on his shirt. ‘Oh, but you’re his upstanding gent, aren’t you?’ She stows his tie in her handbag. ‘Are you going to be okay?’” Mithian is a good friend. She checks on Arthur a lot like this in the fic but it’s not pushy and overbearing like in a lot of fics I’ve read. It’s sweet.

Merlin and Arthur FINALLY meet. “Merlin smiles, and Arthur’s imagined him looking like many things, but never this. He may not be Arthur’s usual type, but … he brushes his hand against Arthur’s wrist under the table. ‘So how are we handling this?’” Good job, Merlin, not making this about you and asking Arthur what he wants.

When they are all introducing themselves a little later, Merlin says he hosts a radio show on the weekends. It doesn’t take long for everyone to figure it out and they are all equally surprised.

After dinner, Arthur and Merlin hightail it out of there and go for a walk. Merlin tells Arthur to stop freaking out. Arthur asks Merlin why he isn’t freaking out too. “’That’s because I have had some really terrible dates in my time,’ Merlin says once they’ve got properly started. ‘I’m like Elena being an arsehole magnet, remember? You being shy doesn’t even make my top twenty worst dates.’ Arthur can’t help objecting to that. ‘I’m not shy! I’m just … adjusting to the change.’ ‘You spent half of dinner looking like I was outraging your maiden virtue.’” That actually made me laugh.

“’I was afraid I was going to have to piss you off properly before you’d loosen up. Look, I know this is awful, first-date chemistry alongside month-of-dating knowing each other, but we’re going to have to soldier on.’ ‘A month of dating?’” I am as confused is Arthur here. Texting someone you have never met in person isn’t dating, Merlin.

“’Now that we’re … doing whatever it is we’re doing, you should mention it on air. Or not, actually, I feel like you’d be responsible for half your fans ending up in A&E with heart palpitations.’ ‘Doing whatever we’re doing?’ Merlin grins. ‘Dating, I think, unless you have any particular objections. Maybe in a while we can slap the boyfriend label on it.’”

I probably wouldn’t bring the fans into it though. They are weird enough about Merlin and his Upstanding Gent. They kiss and Arthur tells Merlin he won’t be inviting Merlin home because he has to work in the morning.

“’You’re sort of a prince,” he says quietly. ‘And I’ll let you out of dragging me to your flat, which is probably much larger and neater than mine, as long as you promise to call me soon.’ ‘We’ll be talking on Friday for your show, anyway.’ ‘Before then.’ Merlin finally straightens up and it occurs to Arthur that even if they aren’t still kissing they’ve managed to get tangled up. He unwraps his arms from Merlin’s waist and lets Merlin catch his hand before they can get too far apart. ‘I’m liable to pine, otherwise.’ ‘You could always call me,’ Arthur points out.” So I like this because I like Arthur going against this fandom’s ridiculous notion that Arthur is the MAN and must do all the MANLY things like calling Merlin first.

Sometime later, Arthur is Merlin’s special guest on his radio show. Arthur eventually falls asleep during the show because Merlin’s on in the middle of the night. “He isn’t aware of much else until he hears Merlin saying ‘—five minutes left, and as some of you might have noticed, my upstanding gent has been quiet for a while now. This is because he’s fallen asleep, the daft thing, but I suppose that’s what comes of being a businessman by day. So, since it’s been a special show—and I’ll bet you’re all hoping I can talk him into coming in again every once in a while—I’ll sign off for the night with one last song for him. Thank you all for listening, as always, and this is the Dragon saying good night to you. I’ll be back again next Friday at ten.’”

Then, “Arthur drags him down into his lap instead. ‘Am I a prisoner?’ Merlin inquires. ‘Absolutely. Until I can bring myself to move, at least.’ He stretches his neck out and lets Merlin nuzzle at his hair even though Gwen is watching and looking like she wants to lunge for her camera phone.”

Fucking cute. Even with Gwen being a voyeur in the background. Merlin invites Arthur to spend the night. The end.

So I really liked this fic. It’s definitely the best one I’ve reviewed so far and probably even fairly high on my list of fics that I like in general. No drama for drama’s sake, it’s pretty well written and characters react and behave in realistic ways. It’s an interesting plot and stays entertaining throughout the story. The only thing I wish we had more information on was Merlin’s previous husband but, it’s not handled in a way, the few times it’s brought up, that makes me feel like the story is incomplete without us knowing what happened. I was also concerned about Arthur’s weird obsession with Morgana. I found Merlin and Arthur are pretty cute too, which is rare for me. I like that Merlin and Arthur had some flirtatious banter that wasn’t Arthur just being emotionally abusive towards Merlin. I also like that Arthur’s bad behavior towards Merlin in the beginning was handled well and in a believable way. A lot of the time, I find Arthur’s attitude and behavior towards Merlin way over the top and then Merlin’s subsequent accepting of Arthur’s non-apologies and terrible behavior toward him just stupid and unrealistic. It’s not like that in this fic, which I really appreciate. I wish more fics had this Merlin/Arthur dynamic.

Seriously.

Until next time:

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy

Word count: 4.1K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, explicit sexual content

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I excitedly jump up and down, seeing the mass of hair stepping into the hotel lobby.

Stevie’s the first one in and I’m nearly tackling him, hugging him tightly because of how much I’ve missed him.

He’s tightly hanging on to me, letting out a happy sigh before pulling away to look at me.

“You look good, babe. Tired, but good.” He assures me, pinching at the tip of my nose and I smile, kissing his cheek for a second before I’m hugging at Slash as he smiles and says, “hey, Viv.”

I look at Izzy when I pull away from Slash, and he looks me up and down once.

“Viv.” He says to me in greeting.

“Izzy.” I reply.

I’m even excited to see Axl, and he tenses up a little when I hug him, but relaxes and asks, “are you dying or something?” in reference to me hugging him.

“I love you, and I’ve missed you, and I’m being driven insane and being that you’re already batshit, I know you can sympathize.” I tell him.

“Ha. Ha.” He sarcastically lets out but doesn’t go to pull away until I’m good and ready. “Oh, by the way, I’m telling folks in L.A. we’re siblings.”

“Why?” I raise a brow, pulling away.

“So you can also be known as ‘Axl Rose’s sister’ when I get rich and famous.” He grins. “‘Nikki Sixx’s wife’ is losing it’s oomf, ya know?”

“Especially once the D-I-V-O-R-C-E is filed.” I add.

“Exactly. So, I’m making sure you’ll still have a name to drop to help you get stuff for free.”

“Gee, thanks.” I nod, my eyes shifting to Duff.

He’s got the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey.” I say to him.

“Hi.” He replies.

“Alright.” Doc’s starting, stepping from the elevator to greet the guys. “Doc McGhee, pleasure to meet you guys, we have a show tonight so you’ve got,” He looks at his watch. “Two hours to get settled in, rest, bend a chick over, whatever. The bus is leaving here at 7:00pm, and no later than that. Got it?” He asks and they all nod. “Okay, here are the itineraries--the guys usually don’t pay these any mind, they just go when we tell them to, but in case you needed it, there it is.” Pieces of paper with the tour schedule on it is handed to them and Stevie smiles widely, nodding his head, showing his excitement for the next month ahead. “I’m going to get a shower, if you have any questions, either ask Viv or ask Fred Saunders, our head of security--Viv knows his number. Here are your room keys, I’ve already got you guys checked in. See you tonight.” He finishes, not giving them the chance to even reply before he’s gone.

“He seems…” Axl starts and I look at him.

“He is.” I reply. “Alright, let’s get you guys settled in.”

Doc got them joined rooms, so Duff’s room was connected to Axl’s, who was connected to Izzy, who was connected to Slash, who was connected to Stevie. At first I thought it was a good idea...

“Was your flight okay?” I ask Duff when we get to his room after helping the guys with their luggage, his hotel room door shutting before he sits his suitcase down by the door before looking around the room.

“Dude, this is nice.” He mumbles, letting out a small sigh as I step to the bathroom, cracking the door.

“Duff?”

“Yeah?” He asks, probably still in awe of the room.

I pull my shorts off, revealing the red, lacy, fabric, before pulling my shirt over my head and look at myself in the mirror.

“Your flight?” I remind him.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He tells me. “It was okay. Izzy had an anti anxiety pill so that helped.” 

"Oh." I reply, hearing him sit on the bed and I take my cross off my neck, pulling my hair to one shoulder. "The guys are really excited to see you guys.” I try to start a conversation.

“Is that why they met us in the lobby?” He sarcastically says and I raise a brow.

“They’re still passed out from last night.” I inform him. “So is Tansy.”

“Is she healed up pretty good now?”

“Yeah, she hates her scar but she’s alright.” I add, rubbing my lips together. 

"What are you doing?" I mouth to myself, taking a few heavy breaths before closing my eyes to calm down. 

"Well, a scar on her stomach isn't anything to freak out about. Which I know she's a mod…" he trails off when I step out and lean against the bathroom door frame, his eyes scanning up my body, taking their precious time examining the "D" on my hip bone that's visible through the red-tinted see-through panties.

He seems like his mouth is dry and I smirk, my hips slowly swaying with each step before I reach the foot of the bed and crawl on, causing him to pull himself backwards until he's against the headboard, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Viv." He starts, holding down a moan when I throw my long leg over his hip and straddle him.

"Yes?"

"W-We're right next to Axl, and you're not the quietest, and--oh, shit." He groans as my tongue licks up his neck. 

"Mhmm." I egg him on, pressing a kiss under his ear as his hands go to my waist. 

"You're not very quiet and I don't want him to find out about us." He chokes out, my hands sliding under his shirt to feel at his warm skin before my lips press to his for a moment. 

"But I can't be loud with your cock down my throat." I suggest, grinding the junction of my thighs into the bulge in his pants and he lets out a weak noise.

"Vivian, we can't--" he's cut off by my lips meeting his again, our tongues running against each other, causing him to sigh out.

When we pull away he looks like he's about to break his argument. 

"Please, baby?" I beg. "If I'm too loud you can just turn me over and press my mouth to the mattress. Or choke me." I add and he raises his brows. 

"I can--what?" 

"Besides, I only get loud when I take all of it." I softly let out, grinding against him again.

"Y-You take all of it?" He stutters out, eyes wide. 

"Mhmm, don't you remember? When you pulled me on top and got as deep as you could, and I told you to go deeper, and I took every fucking inch that I you thought wouldn't fit?" I remind him sultrily and he looks like he's about to pass out from holding back.

"That didn't hurt?" He asks me, trying to stay strong as I kiss at his jaw. 

"Kind of, but that's what made me come so fucking hard." I inform him and he clenches his jaw. "Remember what that felt like for me to come all over your--"

"--Vivian, I'm about to have a heart attack." He tells me as if begging for mercy but I'm soaked through my panties and just want to be fucked into oblivion at this point. 

"You haven't missed it?" I whisper, my teeth nipping at this neck. "All hot and wet…" I keep going, taking his hand and moving it to cup at my soaked sex through my panties and he curses under his breath. "I know you've missed cumming in it." I bite at my lip. 

"Holy fuckin--oh my god." He nearly groans when I take my bra off, my hands running over my breasts, rolling my nipples.

"I've always thought you'd want to do it again when you got here." I say, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips briefly, not fingers lacing through his hair as I add: "I've been fucking myself every night since it first happened, picturing you inside me while I come over and over again, getting the bedsheets all wet…"

His eyes roll in the back of his head as I reach in his pants and slowly move my hand up and down his long shaft, my mouth watering.

"Vivian, you're gonna make me die." He says, running his hand down his face as I take a swipe of his precum and lick it off my finger, making him look completely entranced. "You didn't tell me you were like this or I would have--fuck…" he can't speak when I pull him out of his zipper and spit down on him, using it as lube to continue jacking him off. 

"You would have what?" I ask him innocently, taking my panties off. 

"You can't be too loud." He tries to tell me. 

"I won't." I assure him. 

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

He holds his pinky out and I pull his shirt over his head, giggling as he gets his long, blonde hair out of his face, and holds his pinky back up. 

"Pinky promise? Because if we get caught, I don't want you getting in trouble." He tells me. 

"Pinky promise." I agree, wrapping my pinky with his. 

He goes to kiss me, but the walkie-talkie I left on the bathroom counter goes off, and sounds like Fred says, "six and a half."

"I gotta get that." I tell Duff. 

"You've been talking mad shit over here and then run when I'm ready?" He aggravates me and I give him a quick kiss before crawling to the foot of the bed. "Okay, you can't do that." He tells me, lunging over me, his chest against my back as I fall to the mattress, laughing, his lips kissing to my shoulder blades. "I know what position we're trying toni--"

Axl's door suddenly swings open--which I could have sworn we had locked--to reveal Axl, Steven, Slash and Izzy.

Their eyes are bugged with shock at the sight of us naked, in a compromising position.

"Welp, you bastards owe me forty-five bucks, each." Izzy states to the guys, seeming to be the only one not surprised, as Fred's still over the walkie-talkie, calling for me. 

It was so fucking weird. Axl had a melt down like Duff suspected, and then everyone had to act like they didn't know a damn thing and me and Duff had to act like there wasn't a damn thing to be known.

I hold tight to my crucifix as Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick talk with Axl, Stevie, Slash, Izzy and Duff before they're due to go on stage. 

"Hey, after the show you guys wanna see what we can get in to down here?" Tommy invites them. 

"Hell yeah." Stevie's the first one to say. 

"Sounds fine to me." Slash adds. 

Tommy and Nikki wait for Duff to reply, and he smiles at their offer but shakes his head a little. 

"I got things I gotta do." He tells them. "But thanks, though." 

"Of course you've got things to do." Tommy states. "All the pussy you guys are gonna pull in tonight." He explains with a proud smile and I cringe slightly as Axl looks at me. 

"Yeah. All that pussy." He repeats, smugly. 

"Guys, c'mon." Doc motions to them. "You're up." 

"You guys are gonna kill it." Vince encourages them.

"You got this." Tommy adds.

"Don't puke!" Nikki calls to them and I look at him. 

"That was lovely, Sixx." Mick mumbles. 

"What, it was serious advice." He argues. 

I don't say a word, deciding to keep my mouth shut being this is one of the few times we're not screaming at each other.

Halfway through the set, Axl says something that catches Nikki's attention, in particular. 

"I'd like to dedicate this next song to someone very special in my life, who's like the absolute she-devil in disguise." He says to the crowd. "She's the type to kick you in the fucking balls and then ask why you're on the ground, but she kicks anybody else's ass who kicks you in the balls so that makes her a friend to me." He adds, grinning when the fans laugh a little. "Goes out to the hottest chick to be on the cover of Playboy, Mrs. Sixx, Vivian, it's called 'You're Crazy'." 

I see Nikki's jaw rolling, but I can't tell if it's because Axl brought up Playboy, or called me crazy...he'd probably be even more pissed if I told him Axl actually wrote the song with me in mind. 

As Mötley gets ready to take over, Nikki's tugging at my crucifix, pulling it off. 

"What the hell, Nikki?!" I bark at him viciously, but calm down when I see he's just putting it around his own neck. 

"It's a new leg of the tour, Vivian, it's a fucking good luck charm. Chill your fucking tits." 

I don't argue, finding it kind of nice he still wants to wear it, even after everything that's happened between us. 

I should buy him his own as a divorce present. 

Once Guns is off stage, Tansy’s carrying on about Sparkie--who’s apparently got the “flu”, but I know that excuse all too well.

“Last night he just…” She says defeatedly and the guys chug from their water bottles as she tries to speak carefully, that familiar smack slur in her speech. “...He was like, obsessing over that fucking Playboy issue with you in it.” She informs me. “Then fucked up and said ‘Viv’ while I was giving him a blowjob.”

Axl rolls his eyes at the mention of her giving another man a blowjob and I hold back my smug smile at his expression, but he doesn’t say a word. He just continues to be obsessed with her in private and Izzy mumbles about getting something to eat before leaving.

“I woke up to you screaming, ‘she’s not even doing it right’.” I tell her, being that my room is next door to theirs at the hotel. “Is that because I’m not completely showing everything off, or…?”

“I just don’t like my boyfriend lusting after my best friend..” Tansy calmly explains.

“Well, it’s not my fault your slimy boyfriend can’t control himself.” I state, Stevie stepping out of the room to go with Izzy, I’m assuming.

"I'm not arguing, Viv, alright?" Tansy tries to end it here, but I refuse to let her. 

"No, no, you've had plenty to say to Sparkie about it so go ahead and get it all out of your system, Tans." I insist. 

"We’ve got different opinions on it, Viv, and I don’t--”

“--Because you just think I’m trying to compete against you.” I say sharply to her..

“No, in order for you to ‘compete’, you’d have to do what I do, as good as I do it, and you didn’t.”

“Oh, I think I did or else you wouldn’t be as upset over it as you are." I hiss back. 

"Seriously, can you not get into this right now?" Axl asks us, the guys awkwardly keeping their mouths shut, and me and Tansy ignore him. 

"No, Vivian, you're not competing with me, because there's no competition, because this is what I've been doing for a living the past six years. I'm sorry if you regret starting a life with Nikki because you never got to finish school and have your own identity and your own thing going for you--"

"--You think I regret starting my own life?" I ask her in disbelief.

"I think you regret not going to school and being a dancer like you'd planned, because all of us are living the dream we've had since we were kids, except for you, so you feel left behind." She clarifies. 

"Who the hell said I'm left behind? I'm still with you guys, I'm still here." I argue. 

"Yeah, as 'Nikki Sixx's wife' and 'Tansy Lyn's Friend', and that's why you posed because at least your actual name--you as an individual--would finally be on a fucking magazine, the only problem is you don't think it was worth it, now." 

"Girls--" I put my hand up, causing Slash to stop before he starts, and he shakes his head and lets out a breath. 

"--Are you sure I'm the one that thinks being plastered naked in a magazine isn't worth it? Who's the one so strung out she's completely projecting her bullshit on to her friend and belittling her to make herself feel like she's won?"

"Won what?! What's the fucking prize, Vivian?!"

"I'm outta here." Slash mumbles, not wanting to be around the bullshit drama, as I yell back:

"Attention, Tansy! Everybody knows the thing that drives you is attention and how other people view you! You're so jealous at the fact that, for onc, guys aren't focused on sweet, little, travel-sized-bed-bunny, Tansy, that you don't know how to fucking handle it! And modeling with your pussy and tits out isn't worth it to you anymore because, yes you've got money and fame and attention, but you are still so fucking unhappy! You're angry and envious because I'm content with the fact I'm naked in a magazine, and you're so sick with yourself for doing the same thing!"

"Viv, c'mon, now." Duff says lowly as he nudges me to cut it out, but I can't. I'm too pissed. 

"God, Vivian, you are so fucking privileged!" She starts laughing, tears in her eyes and I raise my brows. "I winded up modeling for these nude magazines because me and mama needed the fucking money! I never got my license because we couldn't afford a car for me so what the hell was the point?! Any 'spending' money was put towards pageants and cheer, and when I got the offer I took it and ran with it because I was tired of being fucking broke!" She yells and I roll my jaw. "You, however, did it just because you wanted to! And I know they gave you a lot of money for it and you're scared of Nikki not leaving you enough money to take care of yourself when you guys divorce--and I'm sorry for you, that sucks--but, Vivian, you didn't sign a prenup so half of his shit is going to you, anyway, and being that he's casually had checks of $600,000 chilling in his mailbox before, you're gonna be pretty fucking set for a while without having the extra $40,000! You are so fucking spoiled and you don't even realiz--"

"--I'm sorry, I'm what?!" I scream, taking a step closer to her, causing Axl to get a little closer as well. 

"Viv, seriously, please just leave it alone." Duff begs me and I disregard it as Tansy goes on. 

"You literally went from your dad buying you everything you fucking wanted, to Nikki buying you everything you fucking wanted, and you've never had to lift a finger to get any of it! All you had to do was ask your dad for whatever, and now all you've gotta do is give Nikki a blowjob and the world is yours!" 

"I don't recall asking my dad or Nikki for a fucking scholarship to Juilliard! I don't recall asking neither of them to fill in for me, dancing for eight fucking hours a day--on my fucking toes--for years, or study for me in all my classes so I could have a high GPA to get into a good school! I might not have a 'thing' right now, but I do know what hard work is and if you want to compare dancing and modeling, we sure as hell can because I assure you, Tansy, you're not where you are because you worked your ass off, you're where you are because you fucked all the right people and got to the top!"

"And so did you!" She exclaims, and Duff and Axl are pulling me off of her a few seconds after my nails are going for her throat.

"Fuck off!" Axl screams at me, getting us separated, standing in front of her to guard her as Duff's got my back against him, his long arms having a steel grip around me in case I try to go again. 

Tansy's only got a small, surface scratch over her neck.

"I might have my issues, Vivian, but anytime any of us act batshit crazy and just attack people it's because we're tripping on something and don't know what we're doing! You're so fucked up all on your own without needing anything to bring it out of you!" She yells. 

"I didn't start losing my temper and being 'crazy' until you and Nikki and Tommy and Vince decided to become raging drug addicts and alcoholics and then act like it's still all fun and games when two of you OD at least twice a fucking year!" I shriek back. "And I don't feel left behind, yet, but I will when you junkies finally shoot your last fucking cc, and I'm left to plan fucking funerals!" 

Her face falls at my words, realizing why I'm such a fucking wreck all the time. 

"I don't look at you and think 'model' and I don't look at the guys and think 'Mötley Crüe' because I just see fucked up morons who need help but refuse to fucking accept it, so congratulations, Tansy, at least you found your 'thing', I mean really, I'm so envious that I'm not a sloppy heroin addict, alcoholic, crackhead. You really do win." I finish, getting out of Duff's grasp, leaving and slamming the door behind me. 

"The fuck is your problem, huh?!" Axl barks, following after me and I ignore him, causing him to grab at my arm roughly, stopping me, and I whip around to face him, seeing Duff coming to us. 

"Leave me the fuck alone, Axl." I warn him. 

"Or what? You gonna hit me? I wish to fuck you would, you crazy bitch, I'll have you laid out right here." He cuts back. 

"Axl, man, leave her alone." Duff tells him, trying to pull him away from me but Axl sharply snatches away from him. 

I see Fred coming towards us from the corner of my eye, Slash and Doc following behind him.

Getting the timing perfect, the palm of my hand is smacking as hard as it can against Axl's cheek, and we're being pulled apart before he can hit me back, which I know he's planning on doing. 

“For the love of God, Vivian, can you fucking stay out of a fucking fight just for one fucking night?!” Fred shouts at me, “Girls, Girls, Girls” beginning to play from the stage.

“No, because she’s a fucking psycho!” Axl barks back.

“Oh, I’m the fucking psycho?!” I blare at him.

“Vivian, please calm down.” Doc pleads, rubbing his forehead.

“Suck my clit!” I sneer at him, trying to kick him.

“I’m so close to have you thrown in a psych ward and evaluated!” He’s suddenly outbursting.

“The fuck did you just say?!” Duff’s getting in on it, now, his nostrils flaring at Doc’s comment. “Maybe she’s this out of order because she’s got so much fucking pressure on her from you selfish motherfuckers!”

“You wanna stay on this tour or not, kid?!” Doc snaps at him.

“I’ll go get Nikki off the fucking stage to come handle this shit--you threatening to throw his fucking wife in a crazy house, the fuck is wrong with you?!” Duff keeps on.

“Alright, everybody just calm down!” Fred yells, making everyone go quiet, the many crew members now stopped and watching everything go down. “Duff, Axl, Slash, find Izzy and Steven and stay in your fucking dressing room and eat.” He orders, pointing at the three of them.

Axl’s let go, and he’s shooting me the nastiest glare in the world as he pushes past us, Duff glancing at me, letting out a heavy breath before following him with Slash.

“Doc, go watch the show.” Fred states next.

Doc looks like he’s about to argue.

“Doc. I’m serious.”

He exhales and steps away, turning the corner, and Fred then stares at everyone staring at us.

“The fuck are you cock-suckers looking at?” He asks them.

They nervously fumble about their business and Fred pulls me to the bathroom.

He stares at me when we get inside and I raise my brows at him, expecting him to immediately start in on me, but he surprises me when he stays silent for a while, looking as if he’s trying to figure how to speak, until he finally does...and causes the breath to leave my body completely.

“How long have you been fucking him?”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Five

A/N: If you didn't see my post yesterday, I decide to break this chapter into 2 chapters. The preview for this chapter is included in the next chapter.

Words: 3.7k

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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I blink my eyes open to see Izzy standing over me, my brows furrowing at the sight of him, confusion filing into my mind.

“Izzy.” I croak out, closing my eyes again for a moment.

“Viv.” He replies.

"What're you doing here?" I groan, tiredly.

"A girl I hooked up with last night lives in this neighborhood." He tells me. "Karen let me in."

“Of course she did.” I mumble, sitting up with another groan, and he sits on the floor next to me, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it.

“So, like, what happened?” He asks me, looking around at the shithole mess I made last night and I lick my cracked lips, feeling the tightness of dried, mascara coated tears that have glued to my face, and let out an exhausted breath.

“You ever walk into your house and wonder ‘exactly how many surfaces did my husband and his mistress possibly have sex on’?”

“Nope.” He replies, blowing out smoke, and I glance at him.

“Well, that’s what happened.” I reply, sighing. “I thought I was doing good, Izzy. I really thought we were getting better. And we weren’t. It was all bullshit.”

“Trust me, Viv, I’ve fucking been there.” He mumbles.

“I gave her a key to my house.” I repeat what I told him earlier and he looks at me for a moment, looking as if he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I might as well have just handed him over to her and said, ‘he’s yours, have at it’.” I add, letting out a chuckle, although it’s not funny. “I’m not like her. I act nothing like her. I haven’t accomplished as much as she has. I’m not established like she is. I look nothing like her--”

“--She’s a ten but the drugs make her a five. And her being batshit crazy knocks her down to a solid two...on a good day. You’re a ten. Your niceness adds two points, your patience adds two more points, and your crazy is hot, which adds five more points. So technically you’re a seventeen. Don’t compare yourself to a fucking crack addict when there’s barely anything left of her to compare to.” He orders sternly, and I push a strand of hair behind my ear. “And the only thing she can say she’s got on you, is screwing your husband, and she brags about it because strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize.” He sarcastically states and I smile a little. “He didn’t cheat because you weren’t enough, Viv. He cheated because he’s fucking stupid and the drugs just add to it. I assure you, if you were ugly or something, none of us would wanna fuck you. But we do.”

“Gee, thanks, Izzy.” I flatly say, furrowing my brows slightly, and he nudges me with his elbow.

“You’re a seventeen.” He reassures me, smiling.

“See, this is what I would’ve appreciated hearing the other night.” I inform him.

“I was an ass the other night.” He admits. “I’m sorry for yelling at you...and there’s nothing wrong with you not picking up on our hints that something was wrong. You just see the best in people sometimes when they’re fucking shitty, is all.”

“Trust me I’ve learned my lesson.” I scoff.

“No, don’t let this bullshit ruin a good thing. You can still see the good in people and try to be positive about them, just use a little discernment from now on.” He shrugs and I wipe my eyes as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Did we just have a moment, Izzy?” I ask, and he furrows his brows and looks at me.

“No.”

“I think we did.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“I think we did. I think we just got a little closer in our friendship.”

“Nope, I don’t think so.”

“We did.”

“We didn’t.”

“I love you and I’m glad we’re friends.”

He just looks at me, trying not to smile, before getting a serious look on his face.

“It’ll be okay, Viv.” He assures me, genuinely, and I nod.

“I know it will be, I’m just kinda scared to go through the hell I’m gonna need to go through in order to get to the ‘it’s okay now’ part.”

“I know you are.” He tells me, exhaling more smoke. “I know you are.” 

That’s the thing about Izzy: a raging jackass when he wants to be, and quiet for the most part, but when he gets serious about something, it’s genuine and hard to ever forget.

Once Izzy decides to go home, I’m staring at the letter from Playboy, eyeing the number left at the bottom of the page for their project manager.

“Just call and see what they say.” I tell myself, taking a deep breath, my palms starting to sweat.

I dial the number and it rings a few times before someone picks up.

“Playboy Enterprises, this is Erika.”

I convince myself to calm down and ease the nerves bunching in my stomach before I reply.

“Y-Yes, this is Vivian Sixx. I got a letter from you guys?”

“Yes, they’ve been hoping you would call. Give me a moment and I’ll transfer your call to our PM.” She tells me.

“Okay, thank you.”

I wait for a moment as the line cuts out, before it cuts back in again.

“Mrs. Sixx?” Another woman’s voice greets me.

“Yes?”

“This is Danielle Wyther, I’m the one that sent you the letter.” She explains.

“Oh.”

“I take it you’ve made your decision.” She says next and I let out a little sigh, hesitantly giving an answer.

“I’m not comfortable doing full nudity--I mean, I don’t have an issue being nude but, like, I want the important parts covered.” I’m saying before I can stop myself, and I furrow my brows and mouth “what the fuck” to myself for being so blunt.

“...We didn’t expect anything different from you, Vivian, no worries.” She tells me and I let out a relieved breath. “We’ve already prepared for more tasteful photos.”

She goes on to tell me when I need to meet with her to sign my contract of payment and a temporary NDA ensuring I won’t let it out to the public I’m posing until they decide to announce it themselves, and then we go over when I need to come to Chicago to shoot.

Once a date is set to meet, and for the photoshoot itself, we hang up and I turn around to see Karen holding a cup of coffee, wearing her bedroom shoes due to the glass on the floor that I need to clean up.

“You didn’t hear that.” I tell her.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She replies, obviously knowing what I’m talking about, but clearly not in a hurry to tell Nikki about it.

She just raises her brows and takes a sip of her coffee, minding her own business. 

After breakfast, I try to clean up the best I can, not even necessarily wanting to go to my room to grab a change of clothes and shower once I'm done, but I do. 

I'll just leave our room a shitshow for him since we're coming back for a five day break in like a week anyway. 

I shower and change clothes, grabbing my car keys.

"Where are you going?" Karen asks me.

"To see Sharise and Sky, and then I’m going out with the guys before I get home.” I tell her.

“Alright, be careful.”

“I will.”

I knew Karen wouldn’t say a thing to Nikki about Playboy, and she honestly never said a thing to me about it...but I could tell she didn’t necessarily agree with my decision, because nobody really agreed with it, they tolerated it.

In all honesty they all thought I had lost my mind, finally, because I was Vivian. Goody-goody, Christianly, worst-thing-ever-done-was-marry-someone-my-mother-didn’t-approve-of, Saint Vivian.

“Yes, I’m sure about it, Sharise.” I tell her, Skylar sticking a unicorn sticker to my face, making me smile at her as Sharise raises her brows at me.

“But you’ll be n-a-k-e-d.” She spells out so Skylar won’t catch on. “A-s-s and b-o-o-b-s out. For everyone to see.”

“Not really, everything’s gonna be covered.”

“Barely.”

“But still covered, nonetheless.” I argue.

“Do you want me to go with you?” She asks next.

“I wanna go!” Skylar says, looking at her mom, not even knowing where exactly we’re going, but wanting to tag along.

“No, I’ll probably have Duff or Steven go with me.” She tell her and she raises her brows.

“Oh...Duff...okay…”

“What?” I ask, furrowing my brows a little and she holds back a tight-lipped smile, shaking her head and shrugging.

“Nothing, Viv. Nothing at all. It’s just...you know…”

“...What exactly do I know?” I question.

“You know what you know.” She says back, matter-of-fact, and I think a moment before scoffing out.

“Oh, puh-lease, Sharise.” I hold back a bark of laughter.

“You know where I’m getting that idea, too.” She states and I shake my head.

“You are crazy.”

“Am I? You’ve just recently been hurt, you’re vulnerable, you’re confused, he’s available and attractive, and a complete gentleman--”

“--Which is exactly why nothing is happening because he’s not going to take advantage of me right now.” I tell her.

“Right now?” She widens her eyes and I sigh. “Ah, so you admit something’s cooking, it’s just not being served at the table at the moment.”

“It’s being poured down the drain because he’s got his own thing and I’ve got mine and neither of us are like that with each other.”

“He broke up with his ‘thing’ earlier this year and yours was just caught with a crack pipe in one hand, a needle in the other, and another woman’s mouth on his d-i-c-k, which sounds like a justified divorce to me.” She says to me, picking Sky up, and I let out a breath...because she’s right.

“Look, just think before you jump into the deep end. Just because there’s room for you to land, doesn’t mean there aren’t sharks waiting for you to dive in.” She warns me and I just nod slowly, rubbing my lips together.

I stay at Sharise’s for a couple more hours, before I’m meeting Duff at the Whisky because they’re playing a show tonight.

“Thank you.” I say as a girl in the crowded room moves for me to squeeze by her to get backstage with the guys once the show is over.

I crack open the door, seeing Axl in his assless chaps, his hair going all kinds of directions in it’s teased glory, and he smiles widely at me.

“Hey, Viv.” He greets me, and I step in to see everybody else in the room: Slash, Izzy, Stevie, Duff, and...no, no, that’s impossible.

I furrow my brows, my heart stopping in my chest.

“D-Dad?” I ask.

He’s just as shell shocked as I am, until his face is lighting up, tears coming to his eyes, as he nervously steps to me.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask next, realizing I’m about to cry.

I haven’t seen him in four years. We’ve written to each other every once in a while just to check up, but I haven’t seen him or heard his voice in four years.

“I’ve been coming down this part of town the past few nights when I heard you were back home.” He explains to me.

“Why?”

He doesn’t have to answer this, I know why. He heard his daughter’s husband possibly cheated on with her, and the mistress announced it on national television.

“Well, I couldn't really comfort you through a stupid letter.” He says and a tear rolls down my cheek.

“Aww, Dad." My voice cracks and he gives me a big hug.

"And I'll fly to wherever he is and give him a piece of my mind,  just say 'when' and I'll give him a real reason to go crawling to another woman." He states and I laugh, pulling away to wipe my eyes, getting a good, up close look at my dad. 

His hair is already starting to grey, despite only being forty-one, and his brown eyes haven't lost any of their spark that's been in them even since I could remember. 

He wipes my tears, giving me a reassuring smile. 

"I'm okay, Dad." I tell him, sniffling, looking around at the guys before looking back up at him. "How do you even know them?"

Apparently, several months prior, my dad happened to be in the same convenience store as Steven, who he saw was trying to smuggle a bag of Cheetos up his shirt because he couldn’t afford to buy them so my dad gave him a few hundred bucks and when he told Steven his name Stevie remembered my maiden name was “Kinston” and asked my dad if he knew me. It went from there and resulted in my dad checking in on them from time to time, but none of them ever told me because they weren’t ever really sure how I felt about my dad.

After the guys get changed, we’re heading to get some food  at the Rainbow with my dad tagging along.

“After she watched the Wizard of Oz with her aunt, she’d pretend she was the Good Witch of the South and used to get out of her little bubble baths and run through the house, calling herself the ‘Bubble Fairy’, with her mom chasing after her.” My dad tells the guys and I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing he wouldn’t have told the story of the notorious “Bubble Fairy.”

“Dad, they didn’t need to know that.” I say to him, seeing Duff and Slash trying to hide their laughter.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, Viv, you were a toddler.” My dad insists. “It was precious.”

“Yeah, maybe you should recreate it and let us see if it’s just as precious.” Izzy says to aggravate me.

“Hey, watch it.” My dad scolds him and I smile smugly at Izzy.

“Yeah, watch it." I echo and Izzy narrows his eyes at me.

"Whatever you say, Bubble Fairy." He says to me and I'm kicking at him under the table, before I'm looking at my dad again, taking a sip of Pepsi.

"Change of subject, why didn't you just come by the house?" I ask my dad.

"I didn't know if you would've wanted me to, if you were still trying to handle everything." He adds. "I was going to when I heard you had a health scare, but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries."

"Dad, I wouldn't have minded." I assure him, shaking my head a little. 

"Well, how much longer are you going to be in town?" He asks.

"Um, I'm flying out tomorrow for about a week, but we're supposed to be coming back home for a break." I explain. 

"'We're'? He's coming back home with you…is he staying with you?" He questions and I blink a couple times. 

"Well, y-yeah, we're still married, dad, so we're gonna be staying in the same house." I explain. "Especially since his manager thinks it's best if we play it off to the public and the media that the situation was a misunderstanding." 

"How the hell does one 'misunderstand' being engaged to a married man?" He asks, and the guys raise their brows.

"Well--"

"--I'd rip his manager a new one and tell him to use it to let out all the extra shit he's full of." 

My eyes widen, and I'm shocked, because I've never heard my dad this angry. 

"Dad, it's okay. After the tour if we want to file for divorce, we will."

"When is the tour over?"

"Next spring."

"Vivian, do you have any idea how long divorce takes to be finalized?" He asks and I rub my lips together. "If you genuinely want to get divorced, I suggest filing now so you can almost be done with it by the time the tour ends." 

"We've tried. She won't listen." Axl states, lighting a cigarette and I glare at him. 

"I'm weighing my options, dad." I say.

"And what's he doing?" He asks next. 

"Shooting heroin and screwing groupies." Axl interjects again.

"Axl." I snap. 

"Dude, c'mon." Duff lightly says, not amused with his suggestion. 

"What?" Axl looks at us. "Coming from a dude, infidelity is like cockroaches. For every one you know about, there's a hundred more you don't know about." 

"Dude!" Stevie scolds him, looking at him like he's lost his mind. 

"So we're just gonna pretend there's no chance that Vanity isn't the first chick Nikki's been with in the six years they've been together?" Axl keeps going. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." I mumble, getting out of the booth, trying not to think about the possibility of Nikki cheating with multiple other girls, but knowing it isn't too far-fetched to consider it.

After a couple minutes of wiping tears in the bathroom stall, I hear the door open, and wait to hear the clicking of heels on the tile floor, but instead hear heavy footsteps.

“Viv?” Duff asks and I let out a relieved sigh, sniffling.

“I’m fine.” I say to him, despite it not sounding convincing in the slightest.

“No, you’re not.” He tells me and I roll my eyes, opening the stall, looking up at him.

“I am.”

“There’s no fucking cameras around, you know that right?” He raises his brows and I exhale softly, throwing my wet, snotty tissue in the garbage can, stepping to the mirror to fix my face the best I can.

“I’ve thought of the possibility of him having others.” I admit, wiping the running mascara from my face as he leans against the stall’s fixture and looks at me in the mirror. “I’ve thought about it, and it’s one of my worst fucking fears is hearing this whole time there’s been girls left and right that’s he’s managed to sneak past me. I don’t like it, but I have thought about it. I’m not oblivious to that possibility.”

“I know you aren’t.” He nods.

“But he’s all I’ve known.” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “He’s all I’ve known and he’s all I’ve got and if I look for any more trouble, I’m gonna find it, and I’d rather not repeat this cycle of feeling like the biggest fucking idiot, so if we can just skip the conversation altogether I’d be really appreciative of it.” I state, turning to face him.

“Got it.” He promises. “And Axl doesn’t mean anything by it, Viv, alright? He just misses the mark when it comes to communication.” He shrugs. 

“I suppose.” I sigh out. “I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of me crying.”

“I wish you wouldn’t cry because I don’t like to see it, but I think you have every reason to, right now. I’m just happy you’re not completely losing your shit like I expected you to.” He explains and I raise my brows.

“Define ‘losing your shit’.”

He looks at me with raised brows.

“What did you do?” He asks me, amused.

“It’s not really what I’ve done...more so what I’m going to do.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“...Playboy sent me a letter, offering $40,000 for a cover shoot and interview, and some pictures to go along with it.” I watch as his eyes widen, and he gets an uneasy look on his face.

“Viv, you aren’t, like, the Playboy type, though.” He points out, worriedly.

“Well, no, I’m not, and I know that and they know that, so when I called just decided to do ‘tasteful’ nude shots.”

“‘Tasteful’ by Vivian standards, or ‘tasteful’ by pornographic magazine standards?”

“Vivian standards. Naked, but none of the good stuff is showing.” I state.

“Oh, okay.” He laughs out, nervously. “Are you...sure about it?”

“Well, at first I did it for the money because if Nikki leaves me, I’m not gonna have a penny to my name--”

“--Vivian, if you need money and somewhere to stay if things go to shit, you can just ask me or one of the guys.” He offers, looking like the thought of me posing nude just for money, doesn’t sit right with him because he knows I wouldn’t do it unless I felt I had no other choice.

“You didn’t let me finish.” I tell him, smiling. “But then they said it’d be tasteful and I wouldn’t have to show everything, and now it sounds kinda fun.”

“And what does Nikki think of it?” He asks me an important question and I go to speak, but stop myself, exhaling.

“What Nikki doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Is all I can come up with.

“Uh, I think Nikki will know when he sees his wife on the cover of Playboy.” He argues.

“It’s not like I’m gonna be posed on the front with my tits and pussy out, spread eagle for the world to ogle at my anatomy.” I counter and he squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head a little.

“I didn’t need to picture you like that, Viv.” He says and I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Oops, sorry.” I say, rubbing my lips together. “Hey, there is something I need to ask you, though.”

“Yeah?” He replies, looking at me.

“Tomorrow I’m going to their office here in town to sign the paperwork and stuff, and then I’m going to Chicago for the photoshoot, because conveniently enough, Motley Crue will be in Chicago for a few days, and I was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

He laughs like it’s absurd.

“You are crazy.” He says, in disbelief.  “You are crazy.”

“Duff--”

“--If he finds out I was there with you, Viv, I just--you are crazy.”

“So, you’re not gonna go with me?” I ask him, scared he’s going to say “no” to avoid pissing Nikki off.

But he completely surprises me when he says:

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Five

A/N: I'm dedicating this chapter to @xpoisonousrosesx , HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY, BEAUTIFUL!! I hope it was a good day, and I pray this is your best year yet. I love you!!💕💕

Words: 3.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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I smooth the hair dye through Nikki's roots, wiping my forehead with my forearm as he chatters on and on about the album.

"Tommy's fixed on making a song about strippers, and Mick's giving pretty good riff ideas, but Vince is too busy frying in the fucking sun to give a shit. As usual." He complains and I lick my lips and keep quiet. "Don't even get me started on how I showed him 'Veins' and he outright said he wasn't singing that 'shit'. If he doesn't like the fucking lyrics he can get his ass off the fucking beach or pull his cock out of cheap-bitch pussy and write a fucking song himself. Lazy fucking bastard. Then he wants to groan about how hard he works. Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware standing in front of a microphone and giving half-assed vocals is so fucking exhausting--which counting how much energy he spends talking back to me or Mick or Tommy, he probably is exhausted by the time he's done laying vocals and blowing load after load down a line of groupies' throats while Sharise is at home taking care of their fucking child. Fucking asshole."

"Vince has always been that way. I don't know why you're just now realizing this." I mumble, sectioning off another piece of his hair before glopping dye onto it.

"No, no. He had an attitude to begin with but it was the perfect amount for the band. Now he's getting singer syndrome and I'm not dealing with his prima-donna bullshit."

"He's not perfect, Nikki, maybe he's just going through something and he'll get better once whatever it is passes."

"He's not going through anything, he's just drinking again." He states and I raise my brows.

"Nikki, he's not drinking again."

"Yes, he is."

"How do you know?"

"I know what beer smells like. He reeks of it anytime he's in the studio."

At least it's not crack.

"So, this song about strippers..." I change the subject, starting on another section of his hair.

"Tommy just has the main tagline of the chorus in his head and we're working on lyrics and music for it, now. I think it'll be a good single."

"What's the main tagline for the chorus?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise." He grins when I step out from behind him to look down at him. "But you'll like it."

"Whatever you say." I sigh, finishing his hair, taking the gloves up. "Alright, leave it in for twenty minutes then we'll go rinse it out." I tell him, turning my back to go throw the box dye supplies and empty bottle away.

"Hey, does this stuff stain the floor?" He calls while I'm in the kitchen.

"...Yeah." I reply before it hits me why he's asking.

I rush back into the dining room to see him swiping the towel that was once over his shoulders, being wiped back and forth against the floor by his boot, probably trying to soak up what dye he got on the floor.

"Nikki!" I exclaim.

"I'm getting it up." He reassures me, laughing me off.

"It's getting on your shirt now!"

"You know how to get it out in the wash, though, so it's fine." He shrugs, smirking at me and I have to keep myself from screaming at him, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Okay. Okay." I say to myself, aloud, feeling his hands hold at my waist and I open my eyes, looking up at his dye soaked hair that's dripping down his shirt now that he doesn't have his towel on his shoulders to protect him. "You wouldn't take your shirt off before I started dyeing your hair, you wouldn't keep your towel over your shoulders and now you have dye on your shirt and I'm gonna have to scrub at it with vinegar and soap. You are a child. I am married to a man-child."

"You can spank me if you want to." He raises his brows and I have to keep myself from cracking up, holding back my smile.

"It's not funny." I tell him.

"It is." He argues.

"No it's not."

"It kind is."

"No, it's no--ahh!" I squeal, jerking away from him as he tickles me.

He stops in a split second, his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.

I turn my head to see Vanity standing at doorway, and I can practically feel the anger rolling off of her as she grinds her teeth.

She doesn't look as sweet as usual.

"Where the hell were you last night?!" She asks him, and I feel him tense up like a cat with it's fur standing up due to being threatened.

"With my wife."

It seems like she twitches at the word "wife" before she rolls her jaw.

"That's the third time you've bailed on plans made with me, Nikki. I'm really starting to get the impression you don't wanna be friends anymore."

"I've been working on music and trying to take a step back from the drugs, Vanity. When I feel like going down hill again, I'll give you a call." He states to her and she glares daggers at him before looking at me.

"You should be very proud of him, Vivian, I mean, really." She sarcastically let's out. "He really takes his marriage so serious."

"Vanity, you're stoned. Get lost." Nikki orders her and that seems to make it worse.

"Get lost?! I'm trying to figure out what's wrong, Nikki, and why you don't want to see me, so I can fix it!"

"And I'm telling you I'm busy working on the album, trying get sober, and, oh, yeah, spending time with Vivian because my life doesn't revolve around my friends. I have other priorities and you're not on that list anymore."

Her brown eyes shift to me, her jaw tightening and loosening the more she focuses on me.

"He only wants you around because you're sober. Just like he only wanted me around because I know how to have a good time."

"Vanity, I'm sure he'd be willing to hang out with you if you weren't constantly on something." I politely interject. "I was the one that suggested he manage his time spent with his friends that were involved in the things he was trying to get clean from." I add. "And we've been together for six years. I don't think he wants me around just for my personal preference of sobriety."

Her and Nikki seem to be having an entire conversation with just their eyes before she's letting out one last breath.

"Fine. Just call me up when you're desperate for an escape, again." She tells him before turning on her heel, stomping out of the house.

"What the hell was that about?" I ask him and he just shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, Viv. She's fucking crazy." He mumbles, giving the direction she walked out in, one last glance before going to rinse his hair out in the shower.

When he gets out, I've got big, velcro rollers in my hair and I'm putting on makeup.

"Where you going tonight?" He asks me and I finish my mascara before giving a small shrug.

"Duff and I are gonna go try to see about finding him another place to move. They're starting on the album and when he starts getting money from it, he wants to get a nicer place." I explain.

"That's what you said last night, Viv. And the two nights before that." He adds, fixing his towel around his waist.

"Feel free to come with us, Nikki, I'm sure he'd love the company of another guy." I offer, not even realizing what he's getting at.

"Well, maybe I was gonna take you out." He tells me and I look at him for a moment.

"Nikki leaving me in a club while you go shoot up in the bathroom isn't 'taking me out'. It's using me as a coverup." I sigh.

"I'm off smack, Viv." He states, finishing smearing shaving cream over his jaw, picking his razor up.

"Is that why you were hanging out with Robbin last night?"

The thud of his razor hitting the sink has me jumping slightly, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye to see him staring at me, obviously pissed.

"Nikki, don't look at me like that. I'm being honest."

"For once." He scoffs out and I stop what I'm doing and focus on him.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I ask.

"I've just heard stuff, Viv, that's all." He informs me and I raise a brow.

"Heard what from who?"

"Vanity said she's seen you out with Duff more times that you've failed to mention to me." He throws.

"Oh, Vanity. The same woman you discredit because she's 'fucking crazy'?"

"She's not lying about that, Vivian, because she has no reason to. It's all in the fucking papers, anyway."

"What are you talking about?" I snap and he raises his brows before stepping out of the bathroom, coming back with a stack of cheap news papers...I'm on the cover of every one, with Duff.

I'm wearing church dresses in a few of them.

Shit.

"I didn't wanna say anything because I get that you're your own person and can do whatever, but you can kinda see why I scratch my head when my wife tells me church service ran late and then shows up on a magazine with another guy.

"Nikki, there's nothing going on." I reassure him, finishing my makeup.

"Then why the fuck have you been lying about it?"

"To avoid this!" I motion between us before grabbing the papers from him and throwing them towards the garbage can in the bathroom.

"If I was spending every sunday afternoon on a fucking date with some chick and lying to you about it, it'd be the end of the fucking world, Vivian."

"Duff isn't just some random person, Nikki. You know him. You're friends with him. Why the hell would anything happen? Do you really think I would do that to you--that he would do that to you, knowing that all you'd have to do is call him out for it publicly, once, and ruin his shot at music?" I ask harshly and he licks his lips.

"Next time you two hangout without telling me about it, I'll do just that. Don't fucking try me, Sixx. You're lucky I'm not kicking you to the curb for this shit." He states, his voice graveling.

"It would make sense for you to do that to me, Nikki, it really would. I stay with you after you treat me like shit, shoot me, ignore me, laugh at my fear for your life and safety and the second you think I'm spending a little too much time with my best friend--completely your paranoid opinion, by the way--I'm an embarrassing whore and you're wanting to kick me out of the house. I swear to God, I have no idea how someone can go from thinking they're God, to being an insecure little bitch."

"I don't care if you hang out with him but fucking tell me the truth about it!"

"Like you tell me the truth about Vanity?! How much time is she really spending at our house, Nikki, because almost every fucking time I go out and come back home, I'm getting whiffs of her perfume and freebase. And I know you aren't just around her to talk. When she's around, so is the crack."

"I'm not listening to this shit." He gives one last swipe of his razor over his skin before he's finished, getting the left over shaving cream off before grabbing his hair dryer.

"Yeah, you love putting the things I do under a microscope but the second Nikki's in the hotseat, it's an invasion of his privacy, right?!" I call after him as he slams the bathroom door behind him when he leaves.

I knew he was bound to find out I was lying to him, but when he did, I expected him to be angrier or make more of a show patronizing me for it. I didn't realize he didn't give much of a fight because he already had the sick gears in his mind turning.

I pull my dress and heels on, stepping through the house to find Nikki.

He's in Karen's room, probably venting to her about me, when I walk in to see him pacing back and forth in front of her bed while she patiently listens.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask him and he just looks me up and down before rolling his eyes, trudging toward me, shutting Karen's door behind him. "You're not an insecure little bitch. You have a reason to be upset with me and I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about the Duff thing. But you overreact when it comes to me, Nikki, you really do. It's like you can have all the girls around you that you want, and I don't know who the hell they are, but the second a guy even glances at me, you're on the defense. Do you not trust me?"

"You lied to me about it, Vivian."

"To try to protect you."

"From what? There's nothing wrong with you and him hanging out!" He tells me, losing patience. "...Is there?"

"No, there's not, Nikki."

"Okay, then. I don't care. Apology accepted. Go have fun." He carelessly waves his hand to the door, but I know he does care, he doesn't accept my apology, and "go have fun" means "just fuck off and leave me alone."

So I do.

"Alright, bye."

"Bye."

He shuts himself back into Karen's room and I head to my car.

"You're All I Need" was written that night while I was out with Duff and once it was written, Nikki found trouble.

I unlock my car as Duff and I finish leaving the Franklin Plaza after just looking at one of the suites.

"I'm sold." He tells me.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not." He shrugs and I chuckle.

"Okay, so now what?"

"We wait for a check, and then pack my shit--which consists of three t-shirts and two pairs of pants--and then move in." He says.

"Sounds good." I agree.

"Now, to celebrate..." He starts, thinking for a second. "...food, and then find the guys on the strip."

"Deal." I reply, heading to Denny's.

Once we're done eating, we decide to just walk down the strip in search of at least one of the other four members of Guns N' Roses.

Seeing Duff's car, that Steven borrowed, parked on the side of the street, we find a place to park.

"Rebel Yell" blares through the speakers of the Cathouse once we get inside, and we automatically look in the direction of the bar.

Like we expected, we see Slash, Steven and Izzy, all down drinks.

I pluck Izzy's hat off his head and turn it backwards before tugging at the end of Stevie's hair.

They snap around, and Izzy's lightly hitting my arm in retaliation while Steven's pulling me to him.

"The hell have you been?" He asks me over the music and I brush some of his blonde bangs from his eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing." I tell him, poking at the end of his nose and he kisses my cheek, squeezing me to him for a second.

"I've missed you." He states as Duff and Slash have a brief side conversation.

"Izzy." I acknowledge him and he nods a single time.

"Viv." He replies, taking a sip of his drink.

"Where's Axl?" I ask Stevie, glancing around.

"He's meditating in the bathroom." Steven in forms me and I furrow my brows.

"He's what?"

The blonde looks at me, takes his arm from around me, holds his hands out and touches the tip of his pointer finger to his thumb, closing his eyes for a second, imitating meditation.

"He's meditating." He repeats, obviously finding humor, chuckling when Izzy holds back a smile and knocks him in the arm.

"Better than doing smack in the bathroom I guess." I shrug.

"Oh, speaking of which." Izzy blows smoke past his lips, looking at me. "Nikki and a friend of his is in V.I.P. he came by and said, 'hey' to us and invited us over." He states.

"Why'd you say 'friend' like that?"

"'Cause she was hot." Steven states. "That Vanity chick." He adds.

"Are they still here?" I ask them and Izzy shrugs.

"Hell if I know. She's fucking coo-coo for cocoa puffs, though." Izzy says. "And she's touchy-feely. A little too much."

Izzy didn't like Vanity because he could tell from first glance Nikki and her were fucking around.

The reason he didn't join Nikki in V.I.P that night was because he told Nikki I was more of a man than he ever would be with the shit he was pulling with Vanity.

That pissed Nikki off.

"I'll be right back." I say to them, heading to V.I.P.

I get in, seeing Vanity giving a near strip tease, completely absent from her mind while Nikki completely disregards her, staring off, looking like he just had a hit of junk.

I feel like I'm spying on him, being nosy, and turn to go back to the guys to avoid pissing Nikki off.

"You find him?" Steven asks me and I nod.

"Yeah."

"You find her?" Izzy asks next.

"Yeah. She's really not that bad, Iz."

His eyes nearly bug out of his head as he snaps his attention to me, scoffing out: "what?" in disbelief.

It occurs to him that I'm friends with her and his expression shifts to a sort of sadness before he's finishing his drink and quickly brushing off his demeanor.

He started to slowly distance himself from Nikki after that...that was a low even he wouldn't try to swing to.

Izzy never told me about Nikki and Vanity, not to protect Nikki, but to protect me.

I couldn't be angry at him when I found out he had known, because I knew without a doubt he would have told me had he thought I would have been able to handle it.

The rest of the night ends with me trying to keep a drunk Steven, Slash and Duff out of trouble with Izzy and Axl encouraging their foolery.

When it gets time for them to start going home or either finding chicks to go home with, all seem to disappear...except for Duff.

I'm walking him back up to their apartment, laughing as he almost face plants, stumbling over himself, giving out a sound that sounds almost like Goofy's laugh from Mickey Mouse, only making me laugh harder.

"Sorry." He tells me, grasping at my hand to steady himself so he can get the key for the apartment out of his jacket pocket.

"It's fine." I say when I calm down.

I watch him struggle to get the key into the doorknob.

"That's weird, I usually always can get it in the hole." He says as a joke, and my face turns red as he laughs at himself. "That was a pretty good one."

"Yeah, it was."

"Here, you do it." He hands me the key after struggling some more and I easily unlock the door, causing him to stare at me.

I just smile a little and make my way into the apartment.

"You need help with anything else or you got it?" I ask him as he steps in behind me, taking his jacket off and leaving it in the floor, going to the kitchen.

I pick his jacket up and place it on the couch, going to the kitchen to see him pull a bottle of vodka out.

"No, no." I calmly stop him, gently plucking the bottle from his hands. "You've had plenty for tonight. You're gonna be sick tomorrow." I explain.

"Oh, yeah." He doesn't argue and I put it back where he got it as he leans against the counter.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you later." I order after a second of him just looking me up and down.

"Wait, wait." He stops me, his hand enveloping mine.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Can we talk about something?"

I feel a lump form in my throat and I blink at him.

"It's really important."

"O-Okay." I nod.

"Viv, I love you." He says. Relief fills me, not even giving a thought to him meaning it differently, and I grin up at him.

"I love you, too, Duff." I say and he scrunches his face up in frustration.

"No, I, like, love you." He repeats, and I raise my brows.

"I-I love you, too."

"That's not what I'm trying to say." He argues, rubbing his face.

"Well, what are you trying to say?" I ask and he groans.

"I love you."

"Duff, I know you do. I said--"

"--That's not what I'm trying to say, Vivian." He starts getting flustered.

"Well, what are you trying to say, Du--" I'm cut off with his lips on mine, despite his sudden move, it's a sweet kiss that doesn't last but a few seconds, not even giving me time to react, once he pulls away.

"I love you." He repeats and it clicks in my mind what he means.

I just slowly blink up at him, the breath taken out of my body as my mind races.

"Duff," I say, catching my breath. "I love Nikki that way."

"I know. And you don't have to feel that way for me, I just needed to tell you, Viv." He says.

"Thank you, but you can't do that again." I tell him. "I'm married. To Nikki. Your friend."

"I only hangout with him because he's married to you."

"Duff."

"I'm just saying. He's a fucking asshole. He doesn't deserve you."

I don't take what he's saying seriously, he's drunk and tired.

My hands hold at his face, making him look me in the eyes.

"Get some sleep. I love you. Goodnight."

I played it off but I was terrified. I drove home that night a sobbing mess. Not because I was confused and didn't know whether to choose Duff or Nikki, I knew not having Nikki wasn't ever an option for me. I didn't want anyone else. But I was upset because I wished Nikki would have been more like Duff.

Once our affair ended, I realized Nikki was like my heroin.

And Duff was my krokodil, which is what some addicts, that are desperate enough, resort to shooting if heroin is unavailable.

It gives the body a bigger high, but does so much more damage than heroin...even if it doesn't feel like it.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Eight

Table of Content or Part Forty-Seven

Wattpad

Word count: 5.6k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, verbal abuse, explicit sexual situations, graphic mention of suicide

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"We can get your stuff up and drop it off later." Duff offers as I pull my shoes on and grab my car keys.

"Okay."

"Don't forget your purse." He adds, and I grab it from the coffee table.

"You alright going by yourself, Viv?" Steven asks me and I tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

"Doc's meeting me there." I tell him.

"So, you don't know if he's okay?" He asks next and I exhale.

"No. I don't, and I really, really don't want to think of him not being okay so let's just not talk about it." I tell him, stepping to the door.

"Well, can you call us and let me know how he's holding up?" He follows me to the door and I nod. 

"I will." I assure him, grabbing his hand in mine and squeezing it for a moment. "Thank you for letting me stay with you. I love you, I'll talk to you later." I say to him.

"Love you, too." He replies, smiling a little.

I leave to my car and head home as fast as I can. 

I hate to be morbid, but every worst case scenario was flashing through my mind.

He had a plethora of all sorts of drugs throughout the house, plenty of sharp knives around, we had a pool, he kept a gun in our room...there was no shortage of suicide attempts or methods to use if he felt in the shock of Nona's death, that he couldn't go on.

And that's all I could focus on the entire way to the house.

I punch the code in the gate and as soon as I get in the driveway, I'm putting the Corvette in park, yanking the keys out, bursting out of the car and sprinting up the stairs to the front door, my shaking hands fumbling to unlock it.

The second I get the door open, it's pretty obvious Nikki hasn't kept the house up. At all.

Clothes are on the floor, empty cling wrap that obviously housed bindles of coke are scattered about, empty liquor bottles decorate almost every flat surface, empty syringes randomly placed throughout the living room and a bitter, familiar smell violates my nostrils from the kitchen.

I slowly make my way to our bedroom, looking around for Nikki.

His closet door is open, revealing a floor littered with needles, lumps of tar, pills and blow...and a crack pipe.

"Well, that's a new demon." I mumble, disappointed, before stepping to our bathroom.

I open the door, and sigh with relief at the sight of him in the bathtub, staring off.

I'm 99.9% sure he's stoned out of his mind.

"Nikki?" I ask him softly, getting on my knees beside the bathtub.

I notice a disgusting looking clumpy mixture is floating atop the water, and I realize it's vomit.

"Babe." I say more sternly this time, hoping to get a reaction. His dead, somber eyes shift to me. "C'mon, let's get out." I suggest, reaching into the water that's turned cold from him being in here for long.

"Just fuck off." He says to me, trying to stand up on him own, but he nearly falls out of the tub.

I just ignore him, helping him out, careful not to get the vomit that's clinging to his skin, on me.

"You need to rinse off in the shower." I suggest to him.

"Get me a shot of blow." He tells me slowly.

"I'm not getting you drugs." I reply calmly, moving his wet hair from his face as he holds himself up using the counter.

"Then what's the point of having you around?" He snaps.

"You're fucked up, covered in your own vomit. I don't think you're in any position to piss off your only help at the time you need it most." I tell him as politely as I can. "Please let me help you, Nikki. I think we've done enough damage to each other the past couple of months to last a life time."

He looks at me, a mixture of defeat and exhaustion cloaking his features.

He doesn't argue when I turn the shower on.

By the time he's rinsed off, the door bell's ringing, and I'm handing him a towel and going to the door to see Doc once I've got it open.

"Hey." He says. "How is he?"

"He just got out the shower. I'm gonna try to get him to go to bed. He looks like he hasn't slept in days." I explain.

"Alright." He nods. "I'll check back in later. Just call if you guys need anything."

"Thanks, Doc." I reply and he gives a sad look before going back to his car.

I go back the bathroom to see Nikki rinsing his mouth out with Jack.

I take the time to notice he's gained some weight back. I thought he'd lose more of it, especially since he's on crack now, apparently.

"Funeral's saturday." He says out of nowhere, and I bite my lip nervously, not saying a word. "My granddad gave me directions to get there but I forgot already."

Again, I don't say a word.

I don't have to. He can read my expression.

"I mean, that's why you're here, isn't it?" He asks, knowingly. "Pretty sad it takes the woman who raised me, dying, in order for my fucking wife to come home."

"You need to sleep." I ignore his comment, guilt reeling through me.

"And you just need to go back to your replacements for Mötley. I don't need you here." He argues.

"Pretty loud barking for someone who spent how many nights calling me, crying for me to come home?" I remind him as I cross my arms.

"I was fucked up." He states.

"Sober thoughts." I counter him.

"Vivian. I'm not fighting with you. Fuck off or shut up because I've got enough going on right now and I'm not wasting time on going back and forth with you." He steps past me to the bedroom and I follow after him.

"Of course not. You'd much rather waste time shooting up and free basing." I scoff, and I'm quickly dodging an empty bottle of whiskey as it collides with our bedroom wall right beside my head.

"Go to hell!" He screams at me, shaking, angry tears sprouting down his cheeks. "I can't even grieve in peace because you just refuse to let me do what I need to do! You aren't happy or satisfied unless I'm fucking miserable! I'm in hell right now and you come in and start shit just because you can, and you know exactly what fucking buttons to press to get under my skin and suck the life out of me like a fucking leech!"

"Drugs don't help anything, Nikki. It makes things worse. You just need to let yourself feel everything and power through it."

"When your aunt slit her fucking wrists you couldn't keep yourself off my dick for weeks! You fucking avoided talking about it and kept yourself distracted with me! In fact, while they were having her funeral and burying her, you were face down on my bed begging 'harder, Daddy', so I don't want to hear shit from you, of all people, about how I should cope!" He doesn't hold back, his shaking finger pointed at me viciously and I rub my lips together, tears toppling from my eyes.

Nikki's coping mechanism was drugs. Mine was sex. That's why, once our marriage got so bad off we couldn't even be in the same room, let alone touch each other, I went to Duff because I couldn't get my emotional and physical fix from Nikki anymore.

Messed up. Sad. But true.

"Okay." I say lowly, sniffling a little from crying. "I'm gonna go call Tom and get the directions. We can leave early Saturday morning." I mumble, leaving him alone as fast as I can without making it look obvious.

I shut the door behind me and head for the phone in the living room, dialing Tom's and Nona's number.

"Hello?"

"T-Tom, this is Viv." I start, my stomach in knots.

"Oh, hey...how're you doing?" He asks me and I rub my lips together.

"I could be better."

He let's out a barking laugh and I hear the pain in his voice as he says:

"I know exactly how you feel."

"Well, I was just calling to get directions to where the funeral is gonna be held. Nikki wasn't paying attention the first time you told him, I'm sure he was in shock."

"Well his aunt and I have called a lot the past couple months to try to tell him Nona was getting worse, but nobody answered the phone until today." He tells me and I let out a breath.

"We haven't been at home much." I reply, grabbing a pen and a envelope from the stack of bills on the coffee table. "What were those directions, again?"

He tells me and once I finish jotting them down, I'm struggling to find what to say.

"Thank you." I tell him. "And I'm really sorry."

"I'll be alright. You kids take care, I'll see you soon."

"We will, bye-bye."

"Bye-bye."

I hang up, letting out a breath as I fall back on the couch, feeling a migraine coming over me.

I close my eyes for a moment before opening them, taking in our house that is in shambles currently.

"How am I gonna have him presentable in three freaking days?" I ask God, fear that Nikki won't be put together in time, cracks into my mind before I avoid thinking about it by deciding to clean the house up.

It's while cleaning that I realize the redecorating Nikki's done while I've been gone.

Some of our furniture throughout the house has been replaced with what seem to be antique versions of it.

He's gotten black out curtains hung in every window, and there's even freaky looking gargoyles he's put up in some corners that look like demons leering in the house. They probably praise him each time he takes a shot of heroin or a hit of his pipe.

I ignore the new look of the place, once he's sober and out of this hole he's dug himself he'll want to be more uplifting and light and change the place back to how it was. But right now he's dark and gloomy, so of course where he resides is going to match that.

By the time I've finished cleaning the kitchen, dining area, living room, and our bedroom, he's coming out of hiding.

"I talked to your grandfather and got the directions." I tell him from my spot on the couch, watching TV, as I hear him open a bottle of wine in the kitchen.

He steps into the living room and sits on the other end of the couch, an entire bottle of white wine in hand, his eyes hazy, nothing but unlaced leather pants covering him up.

"I talked to Doc and he's booking us a flight for early Saturday morning, and late Saturday night so we can come back so you guys can start on the new album as soon as you can."

I glance over, seeing a new tattoo on him I completely overlooked earlier when I helped him out of the tub.

"When did you get that?" I ask, leaning forward on my knees to trace my finger along the sharp leafing of a rose stem on the right side of his chest.

He tenses a little when I touch him, his eyes glowering at me for a split second before averting back to the TV ahead of us.

I just swallow my pride.

"Nikki, I'm sorry I came in and started a fight. I know you need as much serenity you can get right now and I shouldn't have said all that stuff to you." I let out, getting it off my chest.

At first I think he doesn't hear me, until he's exhaling heavily.

"I said fucked up shit to you about your aunt." He tells me. "I shouldn't have brought that into an argument."

"We haven't seen each other for two months and I immediately started in on you, not to mention you're going through a lot and don't need me dogging on you. You had every right to say what you did." I assure him.

It's clear in his facial expression that he doesn't agree, but he doesn't try to argue anymore than we already have.

He gives me a little smile, a dopey smile, something I didn't know he'd be doing much of since the situation with Nona. Then again, he's numbed himself pretty heavily.

His ring filled fingers come up to push my hair back over my shoulder, and my heart sputters wildly in my chest as he slowly coaxes me closer to him, hand beginning to gently grasp at my hair to pull me to him.

His lips are soon brushing against mine as if testing the waters, before he presses a small,  innocent kiss to my lips.

It's bizarre to think I haven't kissed him in two fucking months.

Apparently he feels the same, because the second our lips separate, he's going in for more.

I pull away a little, though and keep my hand on his chest as he looks at me, confused.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to do this right away." I tell him in a whisper, trying to keep myself at bay.

"Why not?" He asks in the same tone, his fingers leaving my hair so his finger tips can ghost over the skin down my neck, down my sides, catching at the bottom of my black tank top before sliding under the fabric to touch at my skin.

"Because we--" I stop talking, holding back a moan as his hand slides up my stomach and brushes over my breast.

"Because why?" He asks me, knowing what he's doing.

"Because we were just separated for a couple months and..." he grabs at my hips, pulling me onto straddle him before putting his bottle of wine down on the carpeted floor. "...a-and it's just not the best ide--ah!" A high pitched whimper escapes my throat as his teeth grasps at my nipple through the cloth of my tight fitted top, his tongue swirling around it before releasing.

He smirks at me, and I try to collect what's left of my composure.

Of course I want to fuck around. But I don't want to take advantage of him.

His hand slips between my legs next, rubbing back and forth a couple of times, causing me to squeeze my eyes closed as I can't help but to grind into his hand.

"Oh, shit." I swear under my breath, feeling slickness coat my panties with each movement against his hand.

My hands rest back on his knees, my head tilts back and I just grind against his fingers for as long as I can, electricity bubbling in my core.

Before long, I'm soaking through my shorts, causing him to chuckle a little.

"Stand up." He tells me and I do, keeping myself from rubbing my thighs together. "Take your clothes off." He says next.

I take in a breath, pulling my top of my head slowly, a wash of confidence hitting at me as his eyes stay glued to my tits, my nipples practically begging for his mouth.

My shorts are next, my hips swaying a little as I get them down my legs, and I nearly lick my lips at the sight of him with his legs slightly more spread, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

I don't touch my panties, crouching down and crawling to where he's sitting, the palms of my hands rubbing up his thighs before pawing at the bulge in his pants.

He just let's out a small hiss as I grab at him, before his hand is around my throat.

My eyes roll back, my legs shift to rub at myself and when I look back up at him he looks like he has an idea.

"Do you want it?" He asks me, still choking me enough to get me even more wet and I let out a needy sound.

"Please." I beg, that need to be filled starting to overwhelm me.

"Show me how bad you want it." He says, drinking some of his wine, letting my throat go.

I think I catch him off guard when I slide up his body to straddle his right thigh, moving my scanty making sure my clit is resting against the leather of his pants before I slowly start humping at him, riding him like I would his cock.

My soaked cunt makes it easy to move against him, a wet sound of me using him to fuck myself echoes in my ears.

"My dirty little bitch." He teases, his hand in his pants at this point.

"All your's." I say thickly, my hand meeting his at his prick, taking over as I start jerking him off the best I can while he's trapped in the skin tight confinement.

He tilts his head back, taking a deep breath as I work him while continuing to grind against his thick thigh that's proving useful as a fucktoy.

He's reaching in his pocket before long, pulling out his switch blade and sawing at the band of my thong, causing it to give way and pop off.

He greedily yanks it from me and tosses it away, his eyes taking in my pubic bone and spread, wet lips grinding against his leg.

"So fucking pretty." He says to me, bucking up into my hand, his hands going for my pussy to angle me where he can see my clit rubbing back and forth against him, leaving a trail of liquid in each go.

"Can I please ride it, baby, please?" I plead, the torture of feeling his thick, hard length and not being able to do anything about it is driving me insane.

He looks at me, fingers sliding between my legs, getting a coating of arousal on them before holding them up to me.

I wrap my lips around his digits, moaning at my taste, continuing to suck on his fingers like I'm giving them a blowjob, my eyes fluttering closed.

After a couple minutes, he's pulling his fingers from my mouth before getting me off of him so he can get his pants down.

I rest sitting on my knees, looking up at him as he gets himself freed, beads up precum dripping out of him, and I catch them with my tongue.

He gasps at the action, grinning as he grabs his bottle of wine.

I'm confused for a moment before he's pouring the alcohol onto my shoulder, causing it to spill down my back, my chest, and my legs, emptying the nearly full bottle, the warm wetness eliciting a giggle from me as he drops to his knees in front of me, pushing me onto my back.

His tongue licks up my pussy to my wine soaked stomach, biting at the rib he likes to bite at, before licking up my chest and neck, causing me to laugh and moan simultaneously, threading my fingers through his thick hair once his tongue intertwines with mine.

He grabs at himself, rubbing between my entrance and my clit before sliding just the head of his cock into me.

I arch my back, already preparing for the full feeling of him completely in me.

He pulls away from me, getting on his knees.

"Spread your legs." He says and I open them, spread eagle, giving him the perfect view of his goal.

He curses to himself under his breath, admiring me for a moment before grabbing my hips, lifting them up to meet him, and positioning himself at my cunt.

His eyes focus on my face as he slowly pushes into me to the hilt, pressing against my cervix.

"God I've missed this." He says, pulling out of me and pushing back in.

"I have, too." I breathe out, falling into rhythm with his demanding thrusts, my fingers pinching and rolling my nipples as he obliterates my swollen sex.

My juices drip down the both of us and joins the wine on the carpet, further turning me on along with the site of him looking down at himself going in and out of me while I lick my lips at the site of sweat beginning to appear on his chest.

One of my hands reaches up to play with my clit and he spits onto the bundle of nerves to further lubricate my fingers' movements, and I pull my lip into my mouth and arch my spine at the site.

He's leaning down in a moment to kiss me hotly, his tongue colliding with mine before I'm biting at his lip with my teeth, my nails clawing down his side before pushing him onto his back, climbing on top of him.

I'm licking the sweat off his chest as I sink down on to him, his hands holding at my hips while I move against him.

I slowly lift off of him, my breath catching in my throat as he moves his hips up as mine come down, burying him to the hilt.

His hands spread across my stomach to move up and down my sides, before grabbing at my ass, igniting hot flames through my skin.

My long hair is sticking to my body as the wine he poured over me is starting to mix with the sheen of sweat on my skin and getting sticky.

My thighs shake as our pace picks up because the need to reach the high over powers the need to savor the moment.

He's got my hips in a white-knuckle grip, thrusting up into me while pulling me down onto him in sync.

My moans, his grunts, and the sound of our sex fills the air as my toes curl, and I start tightening around him like a python.

"Good girl." He says, his hand smacking painfully onto my ass, knowing I'm about to finish and I arch my back and flex my hips, my tits bouncing with each powerful stroke he gives me.

I close my eyes as a  whimper leaves my lips, a tear rolls down my cheek, and my muscles spasm around him as I orgasm, unable to even moan anymore as my body pumps itself full of dopamine.

I ride it out, as he slows down our pace, opening my eyes to see him staring up at me with half-open eyes, more than likely about to come, too.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He tells me, and I lean forward, kissing him for a moment before grinning down at him mischievously, purposely tightening around him, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock, as my hand reaches to massage his balls while I fuck him.

"Ah, fuck, Viv." He groans to himself, squeezing his eyes closed as pleasure washes over his face.

I feel his thighs shake little and bite my lip as his hands grope at my breasts with the same rhythm my hand gropes at him.

"You drive me f--shit--fucking crazy." He breathes out.

"I know." I reply sultrily, imagining his load emptying out into me and how good it will feel.

He tenses up and I cry out softly as he harshly pinches at my nipples.

"I gotta--ah!" He takes in a rough breath, screwing his eyes shut. "I gotta pullout so you won't get knocked up." He gets it out choppily.

"I won't." I assure him, selfishness pushing clear-thinking out of the picture.

"Viv--"

"--Nikki, please." I beg, my voice thick with need and lust and he shutters out another breath. "Tell me you don't want to and I'll get off of you."

I squeeze at his balls slightly harder, his fingers gripping at my thighs hard enough to leave bruises before we're both looking down between us to see his prick glistening in my cum.

"Tell me you don't want to fill me up and remind me whose I am." I keep my thrusts steady and a slew of swears swarm past his lips in a low tone, one of his hands moving to grip at his hair for a moment as if he's trying to get himself together.

My other hand moves to pull him to sit up and he wraps his arms around my waist, his body giving way to euphoria as he groans out, hot cum shooting into me.

My eyes roll back and close, missing the feeling of us like this as a satisfied mew slips out of my throat, Nikki's lips pressing across my chest bone, up my neck and finally to my lips.

My fingers get lost in his sweat soaked hair, my wet, sticky chest against his as we hold each other.

We both fall back onto the carpet before long, and I get off of him, curling up beside him and laying my cheek against his chest, focusing on his heartbeat because it's miraculous that he still has one.

His hand runs up and down my back, and with the mixture of a natural high, satisfaction, and--for the first time in a long time--peace, coursing through me, I'm lulled to sleep.

He wanted to pull out that night because he didn't want to pass anything to me, because he hadn't gotten a penicillin shot since screwing around on me.

Being that he had the control of a twelve-year old boy discovering porn for the first time, I don't know what the hell he would have come up with had I actually contracted something the random groupies he'd fucked in my absence, or Vanity, had accidentally given him.

I had no clue, but my high and optimism was blown a few minutes after we had our makeup session, anyway.

I open my eyes, seeing myself in the mirror on the ceiling of the living room, naked, Nikki nowhere to be seen.

I stretch, soreness spurring between my legs and I wince some, but smile at the fact Nikki and I are okay now.

Grabbing a throw from the back of the couch, I wrap it around me, stepping through the house to find Nikki.

Maybe he's in the shower.

Our bathroom's empty, and I furrow my brows, before hearing something moving around in our closet.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and open the door, seeing Nikki shaking with wide eyes, naked, holding his gun straight at me.

He was so fucked up. He'd get loaded on crack and think someone was out to get him, he'd scream and cry and wave his gun around, hallucinating people crawling under the front door, coming to kill him, or the cops coming to arrest him.

He'd flush his own drugs, every last one, out of paranoia of the FBI finding him. Then he'd come down from his high and be pissed at himself.

There were times he would actually shoot his fucking gun in the house.

I couldn't step foot in the living room for over a month because we had to get the mirrored tiling replaced and the ceiling patched because he shot all of the mirroring out.

I bet who ever had that house after us was still vacuuming shards of glass out of the carpet.

I shut the closet door back without a word, leaving him to himself to come down.

I lock myself in the guest bedroom and try to keep from crying.

I realized then that it didn't matter how good of a wife I was, how mind blowing the sex was, how much I worshipped the ground he walked on, how much I tried...it would never be enough.

Drugs were what he was truly in love with.

I guess Vanity and I both had that in common.

We were both, simply, the other woman.

Wednesday passed with Nikki too doped up to barely roll over in the closet floor on his own.

Thursday he had Jason come over, while I went to the grocery store, so he could get some more blow to counter the heroin symptoms and nodding off.

Friday he overdid it while freebasing and was convinced "Mexicans and midgets" were "after him" (a reoccurring theme, I would soon learn.)

And Saturday...

"Nikki, babe, c'mon. We're gonna miss our flight." I put in my second earring as he stands up from the couch, stumbling forward, and falling onto the carpet, spilling his drink all over himself. "Nikki!" I rush to his side to make sure he's okay, and he's not.

Despite being clear of physical ailments, his eyes tell it all. "Have you even slept?" I ask him, helping him sit up before sitting on my knees in front of him.

He doesn't answer and I sigh, closing my eyes.

"Do you just not want to go her funeral, Nikki?"

"I'm gonna be fucked up, I'm gonna have to face my family, my mother...and I'm gonna have to accept the fact she's dead." He admits bitterly, angry at himself for not pulling his shit together in time but also angry at the fact she's gone in the first place. "It isn't fair. You know how many people--disgusting people--deserve to be dead? I can name five or six just off the top of my head alone, Viv. But do those people die? No. The people who deserve to live the most, the people who love their lives and don't take it for granted are always the ones that get the fucking short end of the stick." His eyes get teary and I just listen. "I--" His voice cracks, his teeth baring together for a second as he regains himself. "I should be dead. Not her. Not Nona."

I try not to overreact, mustering up the words of comfort my dad use to tell me when someone in our family passed away.

"Nikki, who lives and dies isn't suppose to be in our hands. And it's not unless we just decide to end our lives prematurely." I start, taking his hand in the both of mine. "You can't think that way because the plan God has for you and the plan he had for her are two completely different things. And you're still alive because you aren't done with what he has for you, yet. Nona's work down here is finished. Your's isn't. So don't think this is all for nothing because I promise you, it's not."

He doesn't even sneer at the word "God" this time.

"If there even is a God the only thing he has planned for me is to send me straight to hell." He states coldly, his tears drying.

A sick feeling of nausea rises in my throat at his words and I force myself to calm down before calling Tom to tell him we won't make it.

We watched Gilligan's Island the remainder of the day, while Nikki shot coke when I'd get up to use the bathroom.

And then Saturday night came.

"Thank you." I say to Tansy as she helps me get the last of my stuff out of my car.

I just got back from meeting Duff at their rehearsal space to get the last few things I left at their apartment. "How was the meeting?" I ask her, pertaining to the very reason she had to fly back to New York.

She gets quiet for a second before faking a smile the best she can.

"They did some test shots and are sending them to the magazine for review and they'll let me know if I got the job." She tells me.

"They called you, did they not?"

"Yeah, they did, but since it's been over a year since I was last photographed, they wanna see what they're working with." She explains and I raise a brow, getting a bad feeling as we walk to the front door of my house.

"Tansy, you can know you can talk to any of us if something's not right, right?" I remind her and she nods.

"If something weren't right I'd tell you." She assures me. "I'm just going through some stuff. It doesn't have anything to do with work."

"Tansy--"

"--Viv, I'm okay." She states, looking at me with a weak smile. "Now, go get ready so we can go out with the guys, and bombard them with album ideas because 'Theater of Pain' was not what it needed to be and we're gonna help them avoid mistakes like that again." She sighs out as I open the front door, chuckling.

I step in to the living room, about to head to our bedroom to get ready, but I'm caught off guard by Sparkie talking to a woman I've seen before.

Then I recognize her in a split second.

The raven hair, the smooth, darker skin, perfectly proportioned features and contagious smile.

Her brown eyes catch on me, her face shifts into an oddly joyous expression and she's standing up to greet me.

"How are you?!" She asks me excitedly, knowing who I am because of that night on the balcony in Tansy's New York apartment.

Tansy's expression let's me know she wasnt expecting to see her here.

Which means...

"Nikki invited me out with you guys since he knew I was friends with Tansalyn and she was gonna be back in L.A." She states, probably reading my confused look.

"Nikki?" I ask, raising a brow.

She blinks at me, unsure of something before saying:

"Well, y-you remember me, don't you, we've met before? I'm Vanity."