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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Sixteen

Part Fifteen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Words: 4.7k

Warning(s): Language, mentions of drug abuse, minor sexual situations, mentions of depression

Tag List: @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

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“It’s so good to see you again!” Tommy’s mother is as warm as she’s always been, enveloping me in to a tight hug and I gladly accept it. “You look beautiful as ever.” She assures me, pulling away to examine me.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t make it to your wedding, but we got you something.” His dad says next, handing me a small velvet box wrapped in a pretty dark green ribbon.

I take it from him, and Tommy’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I helped pick it out.” He informs me, the chains and studs of his costume clanking together with his enthusiasm.

I look at him cautiously before taking the ribbon off and opening the box.

Shining silver flashes from the set lights above us bouncing off the thin diamond studded band with a tiny crucifix charm dangling from it.

I pick up the bracelet to get a better look at it and feel the weight behind it. Before I can even ask, Tommy’s confirming:

“It’s real as shit, Viv.” He beams. “Me, Ma and Pop and Athena all pitched in for it.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he’s grabbing at my wrist and fastening the bracelet around it once we pull away.

“Hey, Doc, where’s Nikki?” He asks when he’s done, seeing Doc walk past us. “I want him to meet my folks.”

“I’ll go find him.” Doc assures him softly.

“Where’s Roxie?” I ask next, remembering him mentioning she was here and he shrugs.

“She had to go use the bathroom, I think.” Tommy tells me before offering to give his parents a tour of the set.

I follow behind them, not completely paying attention until Tommy stops and points at Nikki approaching us behind Doc, looking guilty.

“Ooh, Ma, Dad, meet the Sixxter.” He introduces Nikki, the two sharing a high-five as Tommy’s mother immediately hugs Nikki to her.

It’s obvious he’s not expecting it, a slightly confused look on his face but he doesn’t reject her.

“It’s a pleasure.” His father greets him welcomingly, extending his hand to shake Nikki’s.

“Hey, Nikki, we could fly your family out for the next L.A. gig.” Doc offers and Nikki rolls his eyes as he states:

“Great idea, Doc.” Obviously sarcastic.

I furrow my brows slightly, but save whatever questions I have about it for later.

Moving to Nikki, I snake my arms around his waist, about to press my lips to his when he turns his head away and winces a little bit, my lips instead falling to his cheek.

I go to ask what’s wrong, but Tommy interrupts me.

“Oh, guys, I want you to meet somebody else. Babe, c’mere.” He motions for Roxie who’s observing all of this from a corner.

Nikki tenses up, his eyes seeming to be able to be everywhere else but Roxie...or me. As she passes by us, he’s seemingly hiding behind his black hair, and I look between the two of them just as Tommy’s introducing Roxie as his “fiancée”, catching all of us off guard.

“What?” I blurt out, nausea stirring in my stomach.

Nikki’s blatant “are you fucking kidding me” expression is shared with Doc, and Tommy’s parents are even more taken back by the news.

“Nice to meet you.” Roxie states as she forces her hand to Tommy’s Mother, who’s still staring at her son in shock.

“We’re getting married!” Tommy exclaims excitedly.

“What’s the rush, Tom?” His dad asks him skeptically but politely. “Marriage is a big decision.”

“A very big decision.” I echo him, causing Tommy to glance at me with a glowing grin and Roxie to glare at me.

“Exactly.” Tommy pipes back as if nothing’s wrong. “Nikki was out of his mind when he proposed to you but still knew he wanted to be with you forever. And, dad, you proposed to mom the night that you guys met. And she didn’t even speak English. That’s love, dude. That’s what I’ve always wanted. And that’s what I’ve got.” He motions to Roxie as he keeps his arm around her and she looks up at him like a sweet little angel.

Nikki steps away from the conversation, his body heat leaving me as he takes his arm from over my shoulders and starts walking away.

I leave Tommy and his family to their own devices as I go after Nikki, concerned.

“Hey, baby.” I grab at his hand gently, walking fast to keep up with him.

“Hey.” He says flatly.

“Wh-what’s up?” I ask, and he stops and looks down at me.

“I’m about to go get wrecked. If you’re in, feel free to join me. If not, leave me alone for a few.” He cuts to the chase and I open my mouth to speak, but can’t form any words.

“Nikki, you know I’m not ‘in’.” I reply to him calmly.

“I’ll see you when I’m done, then.” He pushes past me and leaves me behind, confused and a little humiliated being that some of the extras working on set just watched and heard our exchange.

He apologized within a few days.

Years later I found out he had screwed Roxie that day and he was being a dick to me because he felt like a shitty husband and was pissed off that I was too good to him because, had I been a shitty wife, he would’ve at least had justification of doing such a thing—which would apparently become a reoccurring theme in the first four years of our marriage.

The only excuse he really had at the time was that we hadn’t consummated our marriage three months in to it...mainly because my “I’m not in the mood” had turned in to constant sleeping and lack of motivation to do much of anything—including personal hygiene on some days. I was depressed, and once Doc dragged me to a psychiatrist before it got too out of hand, I was put on a daily 60 milligram dose of Nardil. Being that it took the antidepressant four weeks to really kick in, that day on the set of the “Looks That Kill” video was the first day I really felt like myself and wanted to be involved again.

The album was released about a week after that, and the band and myself were dragged to hell over it, which didn’t help me all that much, and Nikki actually noticed it, despite his newly found hobby of smoking heroin with Vince, although the both of them had no idea I knew.

To solve the issue of constant negativity from newspapers and protestors and everything else in between, Nikki proposed a vacation.

"I already have everything handled. All you need to do is pack enough clothes for a week and we'll leave tomorrow." Is what he had told me when explaining a belated honeymoon.

"Why?" I asked, blinking up at him from where I laid in our bed.

"The album's out, our schedule's clear for a while now, and we just need to get away for a little bit."

So, that’s exactly what we did.

Rockstar's Wife Attends Church Service Days After Satanic Themed Album is Released

Vivian Sixx (Kinston) was seen Sunday, October 2, leaving a quaint Church of Christ service after nearly one week marking the release of her husband's band, Mötley Crüe, debuted their album “Shout At the Devil.” The cover art of the album features a dark and twisted ensemble of red lettering and an upside down five point star which is used to often symbolize demonic or satanic presence. Vivian's mother and devoted member of the Assembly of God, Charlette Kinston, has expressed her worry for her daughter after it was announced Vivian and Mötley Crüe bassist, Nikki Sixx, tied the knot back in late June. 'I pray for them both. I'm afraid he's going to kill her. He mocks our faith, his lyrics are violent and spiteful and he's going to kill her.' Charlette reported to us when we reached out to her. Despite the scrutiny, “Shout At the Devil” continues to sell impressively well, with tracks such as “Bastard”, recently released single, “Looks That Kill”, and a cover of the Beatles' “Helter Skelter”, with the title track “Shout At the Devil."

I read the article of the newspaper Doc had read in the car ride over here to drop us off before Nikki's snatching it away from me and throwing it onto the tarmac, smacking his gum and staring down at me behind his black sunglasses.

"You don't have insurance." He uses my own words against me with a smirk.

"I was just reading what they were saying about me." I argue with a shrug, stepping up the stairs.

"Nothing worth reading." He replies, popping me on the butt to move me along.

Once we get on Doc's private plane, I plop down in a seat and look out the window.

"Are you telling me where we're going, now?" I ask him.

"I told you, it's a surprise, babe." He gives me that weird devious smile he wears so well when he's up to no good.

"I don't like surprises, Nikki."

"You'll like this surprise." He nudges me and I let out a breath and nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt although I'm full of doubt.

"I don't like tropical locations." I remind him and he brushes it off.

"You don't have to worry about where we're going being tropical." He scoffs out, resting his arm on the back of my seat.

"I don't like cold weather." I add and he rolls his eyes.

"It won't be cold, Viv." He assures me and I purse my lips for a moment.

"Big cities are what we're trying to avoi—"

"Viv." He states, raising his brows, his finger sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose to expose his eyes to me.

"Yes?" I ask like a little kid getting in trouble.

"Just trust me." He orders with a little chuckle. "I'm not setting either of us up for failure. When I said 'get away' I meant it. Just relax and we'll be there in a couple hours."

Once we land and get off the plane, I'm blindsided by our location.

It's flat ground, and past the gates surrounding the tarmac, I see grassy fields.

"Welcome to Idaho." He pats at my hips and I look around at the completely flat ground around us.

"Idaho? We are honeymooning in Idaho?" I ask him, not skeptically, but in slight disbelief. "Isn't Idaho a bit humble for Nikki Sixx?"

"Where we're going is quiet, population 4,000, and no one gives a fuck about Nikki Sixx or Vivian Sixx-parenthesis-Kinston." He throws his arm around me as we step off the tarmac.

I had lived in L.A. my entire life, so, as you can imagine, a place such as Idaho was a shock to my system...mainly because I had no idea what the hell connection Nikki had to the state, that is until...

"Grandpa, this is, uh, Vivian...my wife." Nikki says to the older man that was waiting to pick us up in the parking lot.

Grandpa?

I'm probably scowling at Nikki without realizing it. I look a mess in my sweatpants and tank top with my tangled hair, and in no way presentable enough to be meeting any important family members, but I make lemonade and extend a hand to the not-so-stranger and he gives me a warm smile and grabs at my hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Vivian." He tells me with a slight nod.

"You too." I reply honestly.

He and Nikki pick up our bags, putting them into the bed of a truck.

"Nona's making dinner, she nearly forgot you were coming." He tells Nikki as we get in to the truck.

I want to ask Nikki if his dad or mom lives close to his grandparents, but I'm too anxious to speak openly at the moment, deciding to save it for later.

We're arriving in Jerome, Idaho within a few minutes, and on the outskirts of the town, we pull in to the long driveway of a cozy looking house.

"We're here." His grandfather announces and we get out of the truck, examining my surroundings.

It's flat, full of fields that hold different types of crops, and quiet.

As I'm looking around, I'm being left behind, and it isn't until Nikki whistles at me from the porch that I snap out of my observing and walk up the steps, following him inside.

"Look who I scraped off the road." His grandpa says once we're inside.

"I thought you'd leave us in the dust, rockstar." The voice is soft but holds a presence, coming from a small woman as she leans against the doorway of the steaming kitchen.

His entire rockstar, bad boy, demeanor changes as he completely engulfs her in a hug, chuckling at her reaching up to palm at his fluffy hair, verbally acknowledging the color difference since she last saw it.

Nona was the most genuine, kind, and gracious person I had ever met and she adored Nikki with every fiber of her being.

I didn't know how someone so pure could welcome a devil like Nikki with open arms. Of course to her, even after hearing about all of his nonsense, he was never a devil. He was always that charismatic, driven, dream-chasing, little boy with the poetic eyes.

She's hugging me before Nikki even properly introduces me.

"Oh, she looks just like a movie star, doesn't she, Tom?" She asks her husband, not giving him time to reply before saying, "I have been hearing about you for so long. It's nice to finally have a face to put with the name." She tells me warmly, looking up at me as she pulls away. "I've only heard all the good things, of course." She adds.

"Except for that one time you busted his only bottle of Jack." His grandfather says from the living room. "He had a bitter mouthful to say about that when he called here.”

"Because he slammed my fingers in my car door." I defend myself and his grandmother looks at him.

"On accident." He shoots back with a tiny grin.

It's now that I notice all the postcards from L.A. scribbled on in Nikki's writing and a few of Mötley's flyers from their earlier days plastered on the fridge, as Nona's and Nikki's back and forth turns in to background noise.

"You hush and go get settled before dinner." She finally gets the last word, though her tone is more so playful than harsh, the hint of a smile on her lips that he also shares.

I follow him through the house, down a hallway where the wood paneled walls are nearly completely covered with old photographs. I fall behind Nikki, taking time to look at a majority of the pictures and try to figure out who all is who in terms of relation to him.

Finally reaching the room Nikki entered, I furrow my brows slightly.

The "spare" room seems as if someone's living in it. The walls are littered with posters of artists ranging from Elton John to Deep Purple and to KISS.

There's a few pictures set up on the chest of drawers of a younger Nikki with brown hair, with his grandparents and another with what I assume is a few school friends.

"I was, like, sixteen or seventeen in those." He tells me when he notices I'm looking at the photographs.

"You lived here?" I finally come out and ask him, sitting down on the middle of the full sized bed, and he opens his suitcase and hesitates for a second.

"Uh, you could say that, yeah." He replies flatly, grabbing a change of clothes.

"What about your mom?" I knew he had her arrested or something, but I don't know if that was before or after he lived here.

He doesn't answer as if he didn't hear me, but I know he did.

"Or your dad—"

"I'm about to get a shower." He cuts me short, tugging at my ankle, pulling me down the bed so my legs are hanging off the end of it, settling between them. "You can come, too, if you want." He teases, the palm of his hand running up and down my thigh.

"...Or you could shower and I could probably just take a nap. I'm really sleepy." I tell him softly, my hand covering the top of his and stopping it before he can slip his fingers between my legs.

"It's our honeymoon, though." He doesn't give up.

I take my bare foot and place it on his shoulder when he tries to lean down, stopping him.

"You're grandparents don't need to hear us." I chuckle, his lips pressing to the arch of my foot, before leaning down over me, anyway, my leg slipping over his shoulder in the process.

"We'll be quiet." He argues, his lips brushing against mine. "I can always gag you or something."

"Go take a shower. A cold one, preferably." I state, pecking his lips and nudging him off of me.

My sex drive has been revived ever since starting my antidepressant, however, his sweet grandfather and grandmother's presence is ruining my libido.

I pull myself to the head of the bed and get comfortable, the box fan in the corner on a low setting to whisk away any heat, and drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, the sun's almost down, and Nikki's tugging on a pair of his pants before sitting on the foot of the bed.

Unable to stop myself from shifting towards him, my hand falls on the bare skin of his back, trailing across his shoulder blade as my lips mark up his spine, feeling the way his muscles ripple under his skin, starting at the middle of his back and stopping at the back of his neck before I'm wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his cheek.

"Okay, you can't tell me to take a cold shower, and then do this." He looks at me and I furrow my brows, a little confused.

"Do what?" I ask innocently, running my finger nails across his chest.

"You..." He starts, smirking as he turns over and traps me under him, grasping one of his hands around my throat, kissing me roughly.

My legs lock around his hips, the junction of my thighs attempting to grind into him.

"The food’s ready if—oh!" Nona covers her eyes as Nikki and I scramble off of each other like a couple of teenagers caught in the act. “It’s ready. Unless you would like to wait until after you've worked up an appetite." She hints.

I burry my face in the quilt on the bed, heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment as Nikki laughs.

"Coming.” He assures her a little awkwardly breath and she clears her throat and pushes her glasses up her nose, stepping away from the doorway.

My hand's grabbing at the pillow I was laying on earlier, hitting him as hard as I can.

"Do you not know how to lock a door?!" I whisper yell and he continues to laugh.

Once we get to the dinner table, Nona's handing us both a plate of steak and potatoes.

Except it doesn't look like steak, exactly, and it certainly doesn't taste like it.

"Um, what kind of meat is this?" I ask after a couple of bites.

"Venison." His grandpa replies and I stop chewing, blinking for a moment.

"Deer?" I ask, not wanting to sound rude.

"Mule deer." He says, taking a swig of his Pepsi.

"I soaked it in vinegar and then marinade to get the gamey taste out of it." Nona cuts in, worried I might throw up. I'm worried I might throw up, too, but I manage to keep it in.

"No, no, it's fine I just...I've never had deer before." I explain, looking at Nikki.

He's licking his lips, smiling to himself at my expense and I try to rinse my mouth out with my soda after I reluctantly swallow the piece of meat I'd been chewing, and decide to eat my potatoes instead.

"You know, we didn't expect you to come." His grandfather tells him, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "You'd called and told us however many times before that you'd come for thanksgiving or Christmas and never did." He laughs to hide his obvious disappointment.

"Yeah...some things came up." Nikki doesn't look at him, cutting at his food.

"No, we understand. Between a wife and rock n' roll and partying with your friends, it's hard to make time for your family."

"They are my family." Nikki states, meeting his grandfather's gaze.

"So, Vivian, Nikki tells us you grew up in Los Angeles. Have you ever been out of the city at all?" His grandmother changes the subject to dissolve the tension forming around Nikki and his grandad and I hesitate to answer.

"I've been to New York a few times to visit our friend Tansy. She's modeling, now. But I've never been to a town as small as this." I admit. "You guys should come visit L.A. some time, actually." I offer, glancing at Nikki to see if he'd be okay with that.

"I've tried to get them to." He says lowly, cutting at another piece of meat.

"We plan on it, soon." Nona tells him calmly. "There's just a lot going on lately with Tom and I and you kids have plenty going on as well. It just hasn't been a good time is all."

"So, tell us about this mother of yours." His grandpa’s cutting in and I hesitate to answer for a moment.

"She hates us." Nikki informs him before I can.

"She thinks Nikki's the devil and I'm going to hell for marrying him." I explain.

"Oh, well..." Nona obviously doesn't know how to respond to that.

"But my dad's cool." I rush to say, trying to save the conversation from going sour. "He, um, told me he bought the new record." I add, remembering the letter I received a few days after the album was released.

"Does he like heavy music like that?" She asks and I lick my lips.

"I'm not sure. I've only ever heard him listen to gospel music, but mainly because my mom doesn't allow secular music in the house." I say.

"Do you like their music?" She questions next and I look at Nikki and my lips pull into a soft smile.

"I've built up my tolerance to it." It's as if I've thrown cold water in Nikki's face.

He was obviously expecting me to kiss his ass about it, and his grandparents laugh.

"Kidding." I do some damage control, gently nudging Nikki with my elbow as he looks at me unamused. "I think he's a brilliant songwriter. And the talent of everyone else's efforts match the composer's."

He rolls his eyes at me and I do the same to him, causing him to make a childish face at me and I mimic him.

"Are you going to school now or...?" She takes a sip of her drink before pulling me out of my back and forth with Nikki.

"Uh, I'm taking some time off." I tell her with a curt nod.

"She got a full ride to Juilliard for ballet, though." Nikki cuts in, taking a bite of meat. “She’s a fucking genius.” He adds proudly and I rub my lips together to hold back a giggle at the way his grandparents look at him.

“Language.” His grandad reminds him and Nikki holds back a smart-ass laugh.

“Why did you not go?” Nona asks me and I look at Nikki, who looks at me knowingly and I clear my throat.

"I didn't want to leave L.A." I explain. “Mainly my friends.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure there’s plenty of other schools closer by whenever you decide to go.” She replies hopefully and me nor Nikki have the heart to tell her I’m probably never going back to school with the way things are going for the band. “...Of course if you have babies, it’ll be harder to go to school and be there for them, especially if he’s on the road and no one’s there to help you.”

I lose my appetite immediately, and Nikki’s reading my expression like a book.

“She’ll be on the road with me.” He tells her. “I don’t care if we have to get a bigger bus for our kids to fit.” He’s certain of it and I swallow thickly, downing a few gulps of water to calm the prickling in my skin.

“I've got a cake in the refrigerator." Nona offers, noticing I’ve stopped eating. “If you want some for dessert.”

"No, thank you. I've had a long day. I just want to sleep." I decline politely and she nods, she and her husband bidding me Goodnight.

“I’ll be in there in a few minutes, babe.” Nikki says as I stand up and I nod, kissing the top of his fluffy hair briefly before stepping to his bedroom.

I stay in my T-shirt and pull off my pants and panties before I get comfortable on the side of the bed I’ve claimed as mine.

Every now and then I hear a car drive by on the quiet country road, and sometimes Nikki’s boyish laughter echos up the hall and crawls under the door to make me smile.

God, I love him.

After about an hour of hearing his conversations with his grandparents, they’re all saying goodnight.

The door creaks open and he shuts it behind him when he gets inside, stepping to his bag to drink a few gulps of Jack from the bottle he packed.

“They fucking love you.” He mumbles to me once he’s finished, pulling the covers back and crawling in to bed.

I turn to face him, getting as close to him as I can, actually enjoying the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“Of course they do.” I arrogantly agree, my voice deliberately holds an overzealously glamorous tone. “Everyone does.” I add and he scoffs at me, causing a small chuckle to leave me.

We lay in silence for a few moments, our eyes adjusting to the pitch dark of the room, aside from the moonlight streaming through the window.

His hand reaches out to graze my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my bottom lip and my tongue darts out to taste it.

A deep breath sucks in to his chest when I do this, and I don’t give him time to think before my lips brush against his.

Just as he opens his mouth slightly to tease at my tongue with his, my teeth are playfully tugging at his bottom lip, earning a faint groan from him as he pulls me up to straddle him.

Hands snake up my waist, making their way under my shirt and along my ribs, his rough palms grabbing at my chest, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples.

Heat pours from between my thighs and I pull the T-shirt from over my head, leaning back to moan out soft enough that no one in the house can hear it.

My lips find his again, one of his hands moving to my throat.

He goes to tug at the chain of my crucifix but I stop him.

“We’re married, now.” I remind him in a whisper, taking shallow breaths. “Sex in a marriage is a form of worship to God.” I add, my hands grazing over his bare shoulders.

“Bullshit.” He says back and I shake my head a little.

“I’m serious.” I tell him with a little smile, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose.

For once I’m saying something about God that he can get behind: the sleazier and more creative the sex is, the better. For worshipping purposes, of course.

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” He says with a sly smile and I laugh as he turns over and pins me to the bed.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #douglas booth #daniel webber #colson baker #the dirt

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hellomissmabel · 7 years ago

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A thirst for whiskey and gold (7)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Lance Tucker x photographer!plus size!reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide following a war trauma, PTSD, suicide is not described in a graphic way but still explicitly worded how. Foul language, talk of sex.

Word count: 4k

Summary: Soulmate AU where people see their whole life flash by before their eyes when they first kiss their soulmate. After Y/N receives word of her husband James’ death, she moves to Ohio where her best friend Karen has just given birth to a baby girl, hoping to find some piece of mind. Karen has asked Y/N to be the godmother and it just so happens Lance is the godfather to this little bundle of joy. One night, Lance gets drunk with some of his friends and they play ‘truth or dare’ which leads to an unexpected discovery.

A/N: Written for @whotheeffisbucky

Series masterlist can be found here

There’s a Greek myth you’ve always loved, about how soulmates were reportedly created. At first, a human being consisted of two people merged as one. They were completely, unconditionally happy. But Zeus grew jealous of their happiness and decided to cut all of them in half.

Once he split every human in two, these humans were no longer happy or complete. On the contrary, they would search their entire life for that same feeling of being complete again in the arms of their loved one, their soulmate. Some found their other half, others didn’t, but when they found their soulmate they’d forsake all nourishment in favour of that feeling of being complete again.

But they would never feel the same again, never be as complete as when they were still one unity, one body. So Zeus started to feel sorry for the humans and felt bad for what he had done to them. He decided to fix the damage and give the humans the ability to love and make love to one another.

Love was a substitute for being complete again, as love would never allow the same level of unity. Therefore the act of making love was introduced, to at least let humans experience this level of unity again in the same bodily way, just like before they were torn apart.

Making love for the first time, with your soulmate, it changes everything. It changes the way you feel, the way you think and act, maybe even the way you see the world. You slept with Lance Tucker and you have no idea how to feel about that.

After what happened at the gym between you and Lance, you didn’t talk to him for another two days. You didn’t know what to think of it, your thoughts jumbled and your feelings making your insides churn. Karen was getting increasingly worried as her NYE dinner was only one day away and you and Lance are supposed to go together.

He’s a cocky bastard and you’ve never been one to be seduced by the bad boy type. You prefer your men to be good guys, sweet guys, adorable dorks with a heart of gold. You don’t want a womanizer who spends his spare time chatting up girls in bars and getting laid on the premise of his former glory – and his notorious tattoo.

Your phone didn’t light up with missed calls from Lance. On the contrary, it stayed eerily quiet. Even when the day came round that you and Lance had scheduled your photo session. Albeit dragging yourself out of the house, you picked up your camera equipment and headed to the gym. You were early, very early, and so you waited on one of the benches while playing with your settings a little.

Soon girls started to flow in and you felt increasingly uncomfortable. If these are the girls Lance trains with, you don’t stand a chance, soulmate or not. You were beginning to realise what he saw in Mimi, spending his days around these gorgeous, lean girls with a perfect figure. When eventually Lance walks into the gym with his usual swagger, you straighten your back and get up to meet him halfway.

His face exhibits clear signs of shock as he did not expect to see you here. “Hi, Y/N!” Lance swings his bag to his other hand so he can give you a small hug, but you take step a back and smile apologetic. Fortunately he understands you’re not a big fan of physical contact at the moment.

“So are you ready?” He nods and tells you he’s just going to change into his work-out clothes in his office. There’s no cheeky smile or a sexual innuendo that follows, he just goes into his office with a sad look in his eyes. A pang of guilt follows and you have to calm your heart before it jumps out of your chest.

Once Lance emerges from his office, he calls all the girls around him and it’s back to business. You take photographs of the girls’ routines and of Lance correcting their figure or showing them how it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes your eyes linger a little longer on Lance, especially when he effortlessly demonstrates a triple backflip. At the end of practice, your memory card is about half full and you thank all the girls for being so professional about it.

Some ask when they can see the photographs and show genuine interest in your work, though others don’t show the slightest interest, bidding goodbye to Lance with a flirty grin.

“So… I’m next?” He scratches the back of his head with a shy smile. It’s the first time you actually see him with a blush on his cheeks and an insecure look in his eyes.

“Yeah, just show me a couple routines that you normally do and maybe a previews of what you wanna do at the Olympics?”

“Alright, I can do that,” he chuckles softly, pulling his shirt over his head and catching you off guard.

“What on earth are you doing?,” you snap at him with a slightly horrified look on your face as you take in his chiselled chest.

Lance just shrugs and it looks like he’s back to his old ways. “I’m sweaty,” he replies casually, taking a swing at the bars first, flexing his arms and though you don’t like to admit it, much to your entertainment he makes a little bit of a show out of it, grunting and groaning while he perfectly delivers his routines.

Once he’s finished, little beads of sweat are dripping over his chest and you lick your lips at the sight. Although you try to be subtle about it, Lance catches you gazing anyway and struts towards you, shaking his hips as an imaginary song plays in his head. It makes you laugh, the sound freeing you from the chains of insecurity that caused the distance between you and Lance to become almost unbearable.

“When do you think I can pick you up tomorrow?” He figures you’ve danced around each other for long enough, going straight for the kill.

You stutter a little at first, thinking of how much time and effort you’re gonna have to put in editing the photographs before they’re ready to be send to your editor. “Maybe around seven?”

His face instantly perks up now you’ve confirmed you still want to go to the party with him. In his happy daze, he quickly and unexpectedly pecks your lips. Once he realises what he’s done, he curses under his breath and walks away.

You have half a mind to follow him to his office and stop Lance before he can go inside. “Hey, Lance, it’s okay.” Resting a hand on his arm, you give him a reassuring smile before you drop your hand again. “I’m not saying I didn’t… like that,” you confess gingerly, “But it’s too soon after… you know…”

Lance bows his head and hums a quiet ‘yes’. You don’t want to end on such a low note and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, Lance’s hand smoothing over the skin you just kissed when he gazes up at you with a boyish smile.

He doesn’t have to say thank you as you can already see it in his eyes, a little grin tugging on the corners of your lips as you walk backwards to the exit. You only turn around when he gives you a small wave and you’ve woven back.

“What is Lance going as again?,” Karen disrupts your thoughts as you’re zipping up your dress before she returns the favour. Karen is dressed as the Goddess Hera to Ethan’s Zeus, as Karen is the one that planned the event in the first place and Ethan arranged the venue.

“The self-proclaimed God of Gymnastics apparently,” you shake your head as you reply, rolling your eyes at Lance’s humour. “Well, at least he’s got the abs of a Greek sculpture.” Your comment makes Karen cackle in hearty laughter, and you’re happy that the mood is so light considering Mimi is also coming to the ball.

“The self-proclaimed God of Gymnastics and his Goddess of Spring.”

Karen makes you twirl around and gives you a nod of approval. You’re all set and ready to go. Some of the guests have already arrived at the venue, waiting for Karen to assign them their seat at the dinner table, but she wanted to steal a moment of your time first to talk about something important. She has yet to tell you what’s so important.

“Hey, it was you that picked out the theme! Gods and Goddesses of New Year’s Eve,” you bounce back with a laugh, bubbling up from deep in your chest with genuine feeling.

It’s been too long since you’ve felt this kind of light-heartedness, the joy of simply living life instead of just existing. You have no idea what changed, but maybe it’s Lance’s dozen of roses he got you when he came to pick you up. Or maybe it’s the good news from your editor that your pictures are outstanding and she’ll publish them first thing next week.

Karen rolls her eyes and agrees. “So… what I wanted to talk to you about…” She leaves a dramatic pause, scanning your face for the truth about what she’s going to ask you. “Are you and Lance officially together now? Like, a proper couple? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Dating?”

You gaze down to your hands, fumbling with the roses of your dress. “No, we’re not. We are…” You mull over the words in your mind, hoping you’re not overestimating Lance’s feelings for you. “Weighing our options.”

Melinda rushes inside just in time to hear those final words, dressed as the Goddess of Wisdom Athena, pumping her fists in the air in victory once she registered your sentence. “Weighing your options? That totally means you’re dating, Y/N!”

“No, it doesn’t!,” you pipe up, your voice a pitch higher than usual. You thought you were doing a pretty good job at hiding what you and Lance did the day after the snowstorm. So far, you figured nobody suspected you and Lance had sex and you made Lance swear he wouldn’t boast about it to anyone, not even his best friend Ethan.

Humming her words, Melinda goes on to speak about how Hope saw you head inside the gym yesterday with your camera. “You did go through with the photoshoot, right?”

“Please tell me you did. You have to think about the soul mark, too, Y/N,” Karen joins Melinda, her brows furrowed.

“Yes, we had the photoshoot. But I can’t exactly force myself to love him, now can I?!,” you defend yourself against your two friends, getting agitated by them probing around in your love life.

They mean well and you know they do, but somehow you’re more on edge when talking about him. It’s like you feel the need to protect him and defend yourself towards others because they’re so quick to judge.

“I know I have to think about the soul mark,” you whisper gloomily, “I know that it can disappear and I know that will mean we are no longer soulmates. But I am trying to accept Lance as my soulmate.”

Ethan peaks his head around the corner, alerting Karen that more guests have arrived and that her presence is required. “You can’t rush love. It’s already a big step for you to let someone else in after… James,” she smiles warmly as she squeezes your hands in hers.

“I heard from Mike that Lance told the guys the mark is brighter again, so that’s a good sign.” Melinda sits down next to you and her voice takes a softer tone, as if she’s about to handle you with velvety gloves. “Mike also says Lance was a bit reluctant to talk about the night you got snowed in. That he was very vague about it. Did something happen, Y/N?”

Locking eyes with her, you know you can’t keep this a secret for much longer. If Mike is already asking question, Mike who is always oblivious to the most obvious of things, then surely Ethan and Oliver have already picked up there is something going on. “I slept with Lance,” you suddenly blurt out.

“NO WAY!,” both women exclaim in unison, eyes going back and forth between you and them. Then they just gasp while scanning you from head to toe as if they can’t believe you actually did sleep with Lance.

“How was it?,” Melinda is the first one to ask.

Shrugging with one shoulder, you try to brush off the subject as quickly as possible. “The date was super romantic, the sex not so much. It was –“ Pursing your lips as you’re trying to find the right word, you then decide on “Hungry.” With a nod, you confirm you statement one more time. “Hungry, sweaty sex.”

“The best kind,” Melinda agrees with a girly giggle, prompting a baffled laugh from Karen and you, too. The girls don’t ask you any more questions, just leave the subject there for you to pick up again if you wanted to or felt the need to talk about it.

“I just gotta touch up my make-up a little and then I’m ready to roll,” you tell your friends when they join their soulmates and already head downstairs. You check your eyeliner and hairdo, deciding to adjust your lipstick and add some more blush before following them.

Suddenly there’s another knock on the door and you figure it must be Lance, wondering what’s taking you so long. You tell him to come in, only to see from the mirror it’s not Lance but Mimi. Snapping your head in her direction, you lock eyes and immediately ask her what she wants.

“Nice dress,” she comments, seemingly unimpressed. “The Goddess of Tulle and a fat ass, hm?”

Mimi is dressed in a black, luscious yet see-through dress that leaves little to the imagination. When she notices you’re scoffing at her choice of attire, she flips you off and tells you she’s the Goddess of Night. “I bet Lance will love it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Mimi. What you and Lance had was a fling.” Standing up from your seat, your dress elegantly flowing from your curves, you walk past Mimi to the door and not so accidentally bump your shoulder to hers.

“And you’re a fat cow!,” she yells at you in frustration. She really can’t take it when people talk back, even though she’s the one that started the argument in the first place. “You don’t deserve Lance. Just like you didn’t deserve James.”

It’s as if you’re frozen in time and nailed to the spot. You’re absolutely sure Karen never told her sister about James. She swore it on the life of her future child that she would never, ever tell anyone but Ethan, who was James’ best friend and buddy in the army.

With a menacing look, you turn around and point a stern finger at the girl. “What did you just say?”

There’s victory in her eyes as she notices she’s hit quite a sensitive nerve. “What do you think Lance will say or do when he finds out what happened to James? It’s your fault he’s dead.”

Mimi bats away your hand and you react instinctively, striking her hard across the cheek to punish her for her audacity. “You have no right to speak his name. You have no right to accuse me of his death.”

Despite looking scandalised, you can’t wipe that triumphant look off her face. “He came back from the war with severe PTSD, and you did nothing. You let him kill himself.”

A series of flashbacks violently resurface, most of them from the day you found James in your bedroom, with no pulse and a bullet through the head. You vividly recall the blood spatter and how your hands were stained red when you cradled his face in your hands in disbelief.

“I loved him, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

Clenching your jaw, you contemplate whether to slap Mimi again, or keep your anger to yourself and not give in to her bullying. She’s obviously trying to lure you out and frankly, it’s working. “James was a broken man when he returned. He saw young, small children blow themselves up because their parents are dead and the regime fed them lies, telling them it’s for a noble cause.”

“You have no idea of the horrors he saw there. You have no idea and how could you? You’re just a foolish girl who’s jealous and envious because a boy she likes doesn’t like her back.”

Mimi’s face is aw shite as a sheet, intimidated by the darkness of your words, your voice deeper than usual as you recall the images James had stuck in his head, the stories he told you that still haunt you to this day.

When you think you’ve said enough to stop her childish actions, Mimi surprises you once more. You’re almost out the door, your back turned to her again, when she delivers the final blow, plays her last card in the hopes of bringing you down with her.

“Lance ‘the fucker’ Tucker,” she rushes out in one heavy breath. “We fucked, you know, two days ago. He was at the bar, we were both hammered and started making out. He took me back to his place and we fucked. So it seems he isn’t as loyal to you as you think.”

When you see Lance waiting for you like a prince straight from a fairy-tale, or more likely a god straight from mount Olympus, your heart does that weird little dance move again. Once downstairs, he takes your hand in his and instantly intertwines your fingers, as if he wants to show everyone that you are in fact his.

“Your highness,” he chuckles playfully into your ear as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m not a queen, Lance. I’m the Goddess of Spring. Persephone, remember? I told you the Greek myth in the car.”

“Well,” Lance winks while jokingly pinching your ass. “We did other stuff in the car as well. Can you blame me for not remembering your lecture on Greek mythology.”

You immediately press a finger to his lips to silence him, afraid someone might be eavesdropping on your conversation, sending him a dirty look as well for being so talkative. “We kissed, that’s all.”

Lance wiggles his brows suggestively. “A French kiss,” he replies with a shit-eating grin and you playfully slap his arm in your defence.

Karen is busy assigning seats so you figure you will find your spot by yourself, searching for Ethan’s name since Karen must’ve placed the four of you together anyway. But much to your surprise and disappointment, your name isn’t anywhere near Ethan’s.

Instead it’s at least two tables away and next to three empty seats, two of which don’t have a name tag, just a card that says ‘reserved’. But luckily there’s Ben and Hope sitting right across from you, Hope dressed as the Goddess of Victory.

“You know who these seats are for?,” you ask Hope to see if she knows who the mystery guests are.

Holding up the card next to Ben, she mumbles Mimi’s name. “Can’t believe Karen seated her on our table,” she scoffs and Lance joins in on her discontent, humming in dismay.

You only chuckle nervously, Mimi’s confession still fresh in your mind. There’s a part of you that wants to believe she’s lying to you, because it could just easily be another trick to get back with Lance. But a part of you is nagging and itching and scratching at you. There’s a part of you that believes Lance would easily succumb to his old ways if he thought you’d turned him down.

Your smile never quite reaches your eyes when Lance bites his lip, looking about ready to devour you. All you have to do is get through the night and avoid repeating your earlier mistakes. No hot ‘n heavy make-out session and certainly no sex. Just innocent teasing and light flirtations, so he doesn’t suspect a thing.

“Yeah, what is wrong with Karen?,” Lance groans as he remembers Christmas Eve and how childish she acted, not just towards him but also towards you. He already expected Mimi to throw all her shit at him for cheating on her with Hope, but that Mimi would do anything to discredit you, that’s taking it a step too far.

Ethan takes the microphone and thanks everyone for coming, passing along the microphone to Karen who begins her speech. You only listen half to what she’s saying, enraptured by the man sitting next to you. There’s way too much gel in his hair and it’s too sleek for your taste since you like a little bit of fluffy hair you can card your hands through. It does make him look regal, you have to give him that.

As Karen is nearly finished with her speech when the doors behind you creak open as the final guests arrive a modest fifteen minutes late. All the heads turn in their direction and Karen even interrupts her speech to see who dares to walk in now when she’s almost done. You’re glaring daggers when you see who is the first one to strut inside but soon it turns into a panicking gaze when the other two mystery guests finally show their face.

In walks Mimi and behind her is Irina, ironically dressed as the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. However, holding Irina’s hand is her little girl, Lance’s daughter Adriana.

Here are the dresses I used as inspiration (pics found on pinterest, so I don’t own them!)

Karen’s dress:

Mimi’s dress:

Hope’s dress:

The reader’s dress:

Irina’s dress:

Series tag list: @bbparker @mistlethor

Tag list for all plus size stories: @whatisaheroanyway @ilovebeingjoyful @veronicalei @meganlane84 @thescarsweleave @isaxhorror @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @evyiione @salamander-falls @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @jasmineladjevardi @sonofadeanwinchester @marvel-at-bucky @nothin-after-79 @sexy-sea-basss @shesmade0fcandy @mrs-dr-strange @disneymarina @secondsandstars @brandybucky @princess76179 @metal-armed-dino @marvelsdaughter @beautifulbri26 @allyp1023 @ivannalinaje @ineffabl-y @tsukuyomi011 @ourdreamsrealized @toniinhere @amarokofficial

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#whotheeffisbucky writing challenge #a thirst for whiskey and gold #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x plus size! reader #lance tucker x plus size reader #lance tucker x plus size!reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader

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theonyxpath · 6 years ago

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Presenting “Apple,” written by the inimitable Kieron Gillen, from the upcoming Scion: Origin.

Everyone liked Donnie. They always liked him.

Donnie served the girl her cappuccino. She glanced down, and her eyes widened in delight. Written in the froth, in perfect foam writing, was the word “Brittany.”

“How did you know my name?”

Donnie shrugged a sculpted shoulder. “When you walked in the door, I just looked at you and thought… there’s a Brittany.” He unleashed his matinee-idol smile for a second. “Was I right?” Her cheeks reddened as she looked down at her drink and then, with a calm determination, raised her gaze.

“This isn’t a thing I’d normally do but…” she said, “do you want my number?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got a girlfriend,” said Donnie, who didn’t.

This wasn’t enough to stop her. She pushed a business card across the counter. “Well, if you ever don’t have a girlfriend, call me.” She gave him a smile that made him suspect she wanted Donnie to call her, girlfriend or not, and left.

Donnie examined the card. Brittany was a model. He could have guessed. She was, by any reasonable standard, beautiful, but Donnie’s standards were far from standard. Even in L.A., where every second barista looked like a sex-symbol-in-waiting, Donnie was something else. A week didn’t go by when someone didn’t try to scout him for one agency or another. When he told them about his life story — abandoned as baby, terrible foster families, all the misery-porn human interest a marketing department could ever hope for — they offered to virtually bury him in cash to convince him to sign.

Donnie always turned them down, much to the annoyance and envy of his fellow model-actor-whatever baristas. That’s not what he came to town for, he’d explain, though he was never able to precisely articulate what he hadcome to town for. The best he managed was that shoulder shrug, his smile, and a vague “It just feels like it’s where I’m meant to be.”

Donnie knew he’d figure it out and, until then, enjoyed the game of the place, the endless stream of tiny offerings, digits he knew he’d never call pushed across his coffee-shop altar…

His musing was disturbed by Martha. She was the oldest barista, somewhere in her late 20s, maybe even edging over the 3-0.

“Hey, Donnie — it’s your turn to close up today,” she said. “Time to see if you can even make mopping look good.”

Donnie locked eyes, then lowered his head faux bashfully, looking at her through a rainforest of lashes.

“Martha, do I have to? I had other plans…” Martha froze, and then visibly melted, but just at the moment when Donnie knew she was going to let him off, she stiffened.

“No, Donnie. You have to stay late tonight,” she said, seemingly as surprised as Donnie at the words coming out of her mouth.

She turned away, before Donnie even managed to deploy a military-grade pout. This was unprecedented. He’d done this job for a year, and was yet to touch any mop other than his surfeit of luxurious hair. He didn’t know why he was doing this job, but it certainly wasn’t for dousing the ?oor with… whatever you douse the ?oor with when you’re mopping. It was only then that Donnie realized he didn’t actually know how to mop. He’d never had to. The normally iron-willed Martha could never say no to him, for obvious reasons. Few people could.

Everyone had always liked Donnie. Mostly they really liked him. In Donnie’s universe, “platonic friend” roughly translated to “friend who is biding their time.”

He sighed. He’d have to skip the gym. Not that that was a huge problem — his friends were always shocked and envious at how little he had to work out to maintain his body — but it was always a good opportunity to gather a few more digits.

Donnie had stopped going by his given name within a day and a half of arriving in L.A. A writer had glanced at his name tag, up at his face, then leaned across the counter to say, “Don’t you think that’s a little on the nose, kid?”

Donnie smiled back and, when the writer had left, googled “on the nose” and realized he agreed.

Ever since then, Adonis went by Donnie.

* * *

While he didn’t necessarily want to repeat the experience, staying after hours had its appeal. Donnie had never seen how the amber light of sunset almost miraculously transformed the workaday cafe. As much as a Santa Monica coffee place could look magical, it did. It distracted him so much, it took until the ?oor was as clean as it was going to get for Donnie to notice the cell phone.

He couldn’t see how he had missed it. He couldn’t see how anyone could miss it. It was gold-plated, wafer-thin, and beautiful. He didn’t recognize the model. He couldn’t even identify the brand until he ?ipped it over, and saw a crisp apple logo. Perhaps a prototype that someone in R&D had left? He scoured the locked phone for any sign of identification.

On the back, there was an inscription carved in its metal casing:

For The Prettiest One

The door opened. Donnie could have sworn he locked it, and was halfway through saying that they were closed before he turned around and momentarily lost control of all language.

In the doorway was the most beautiful woman Donnie had ever seen. He would have guessed she was in her late 30s, but as exquisitely preserved as Greek marble. The business suit was simple, a picture frame on her Mona Lisa. Her hair was arranged in thick braids, a crown high on her brow. For the first time since he was 16 and had met that impossibly lithe Russian gymnast, he felt the urge to offer someone his digits. Back then, the athlete had pre-empted him by passing Donnie his first, but now, Donnie could feel himself reaching for a pen and a napkin…

“I think you have my phone,” she said.

Donnie came around. A conversation. He remembered these. He could handle a conversation. He raised the phone, glinting in the light.

“I may have. Do you have any ID?”

She made the sort of expression Donnie could imagine her offering someone who interrupted a business meeting to tell an extended fart gag. She sighed, and then aimed one inevitably perfect finger at her face.

“I think you’ll find this is all the identification I need.” She smiled for the first time, a cold moon rising on a chill paradise.

Donnie found himself about to pass her the phone when they were interrupted.

“Oh god, don’t listen to her, Donnie. It’s not her phone,” said the new voice, “It’s mine.”

Small matters like how the newcomer knew his name, or the fact that the door hadn’t opened again, were forgotten as Donnie glanced in her direction. She had the sort of self-confidence that could make Donnie imagine her running a gym or a laboratory, or else ruling a library where there was little reading and much pining. She had the sort of looks that made him want to dive into a thesaurus in hope of finding better words to capture them.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Donnie glanced back at the first woman. Actually, maybe not. It was hard to tell.

“My phone. I’ll take it now…unless you want things to get rough,” said the second woman, hand outstretched, “but I really don’t want that.”

Donnie was a half-foot taller than her, but felt sure that in any fight, this woman would kick his ass. If he was pressed, he’d admit that actually added to her allure. But was she more beautiful than the regal business woman? It was difficult to tell but was, as far as dilemmas to consider go, an enjoyable one. He was no closer to a decision when a third voice interrupted.

“Oh, darling. Don’t. It’s so obviously my phone…”

Donnie turned towards the new voice. That it was the third time in as many minutes this had happened didn’t diminish his sense of awe in the slightest. She was the youngest of the three, with neither the grandeur of the first or the appealing threat of the second, but instead radiated lightness and joy. Her smile was a promise: dawn when it was cold, rain when it was hot, whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it, better than you could ever have wished.

Yes, it was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There were a lot of them around.

“If you threaten my boy, I’ll make you wish you were never born,” she said, before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry — of course, you were never born, Little Miss burst-from-Daddy’s-brow.”

“Don’t try to do clever. It’s not your thing. It’s my thing,” said the second woman to the newcomer, before turning to the first. “Why did you never teach this blond bastard her place?”

“Do not be too proud of yourself,” said the original. “You thought it wise to enter a contest of beauty against the queen of all heavens and the Goddess of sex. That third place is the best you can hope for is hardly the strongest argument for you being ‘Goddess of Wisdom’.”

Donnie looked between the three, and then back at the golden apple on the phone, and he started to understand. Three Gods, a difficult decision… and something bad happened afterwards? Paris? Something about going to Paris, maybe? Donnie didn’t think that sounded too bad. Paris was great. Maybe it had rained when they were there?

But the other part, the most important thing: The latest arrival had called him “my boy.”

The first was Hera. The second was Athena. The third was Aphrodite.

And Aphrodite was his mother.

He was a Scion of the Gods. He was a Scion of the Gods, and his blood was a?ame. He was a Scion of the Gods; his heart was filled with an endless choir of boys and girls like Brittany singing for him, and only him. He was a Scion of the Gods, and his name was the accelerator to the world’s pulse, He was a Scion of the Gods, He Who Breaks Hearts, He Who…

In the abstract, Donnie knew what a word like “demigod” meant. The general knowledge was revealed to be as meaningless as knowing the sun is merely a ball of hydrogen and helium. True, but oh so small, so insignificant to the purging incandescence consuming his every part.

He’d always had an interest in extreme sports, but everything paled to this. Divinity was the ultimate high.

By the time Donnie had returned to something resembling consciousness, he was shocked to find his knees still worked. The women watched, patient as only the eternal can be. As he tried to recover a passing facsimile of his easy charm, his golden blood sang a warning song to him.

This choice? This petty, shallow, vain little decision?

It was the most important of his life.

“So…girls. I get it. I have to give this phone to who’s the most beautiful,” he smiled, remembering how this story went. “Aren’t you meant to try and offer me a little motivation?”

They all looked at Donnie at once, equally harshly, then glanced away, innocent. The phone vibrated in his hand, a new message on the screen.

The only gift worth having. Power. Only I can make this world yours. – Hera

Hera met his eyes, dark as a million shadowy boardrooms.

The phone vibrated again.

Strength and the wisdom to know how to use this strength. Imagine your perfection. – Athena

Athena had folded her arms. Her expression implied that if he was considering any other offer, she’d think him a fool.

The phone vibrated once more.

Someone as beautiful as you are, my child. – Aphrodite

Aphrodite winked. Donnie was aware from how the world treated him that such temptations are always the sweetest.

Donnie turned from the women, face hidden from them as he came to his decision. He knew this would entirely define his future. Those he didn’t pick would despise him. He’d have humbled them, and the one thing he knew about these women is that they would never, ever forgive him.

Did he really want to live with this?

He smiled. Of course he did.

Donnie turned back, holding up the phone.

“I’m sorry ladies, but there’s clearly been some confusion,” he said. “You’re all extremely beautiful, of course, but this phone is for the prettiest one.”

He put his thumb on the reader. The phone unlocked.

“This is my phone.”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Literally. A sheen of ice covered the windows, the surfaces of the tables, the badly mopped ?oor.

“You don’t know what enemies you’ve made today, boy,” said Hera.

“Oh, I do,” said Donnie with absolute sincerity, feeling alive for the first time, like the rest of his life had just been a prologue. “I’ve made the best enemies a man can have.

“You’ve got my digits. Don’t be strangers,” he said as he held the door open for the three Goddesses. “Now get out.”

Everyone liked Donnie.

And he was oh, so bored of that.

Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero are currently available for pre-order via BackerKit.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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goddessofphilosophy · 5 years ago

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Dearest Father, I have returned here in our homey abode in New York City. Oh I have missed you so terribly! Please don't tell me that I don't remember you more often since I got married. In fact he makes me want to write to you every single day. Oh Father, if only you know the situation here on Earth. He's right here beside me, soundly sleeping, every inch of perfection, and I just can't understand how my heart flutters when he smiles at me. He collected me from London Sunday Night last week to attend the Opening of the National 9/11 Memorial & Museum and he gave the most amazing speech ever! Because it involves me! I heard you whisper I'm such a narcissist. Well... newsflash, Father, I'm never the humble sheep to begin with. He said so himself I'm the lion. You know what, I have this long list of reasons why he must have fallen in love with me and now it's shorter than my shopping list. Can you imagine? I'm getting suspicious but then... sometimes we don't need words... and you don't have to know that part. We had so much fun meeting old friends and guests from other states. I personally loved catching up with my former clients. I told them it's getting a bit lonely now that my youngest son's already graduating in college (because I presume he might want to just stay in his house in Cambridge than stay with us here in New York City) and they asked me why I never had another baby. If only they know how traumatic my first and last pregnancy was. I have been here for quite a few days now. Mom & Amberleighn are too busy with Fashion Week. They didn't even bother supporting us. And they went to London this weekend for the Burberry Show. I bet they are still enjoying Milan Fashion Week. Annicka has been my companion lately. And before I forgot, I have a new secretary. She is Jane Sheppard. Why do I need a second one, you ask? My husband is apparently on panic mode in case I go back to Syria and get killed by the ongoing war. What he doesn't know is that I also visit Somalia and Nigeria (and other parts of Africa) where I met this peculiar girl we saved from child marriage. Oh Father, it was heartbreaking. Her father had to force her to marry an older man to get them out of poverty. It was terrible! Two oxen, five chickens and a goat in exchange for a little girl's life. And they are not even treated properly after getting married; they become slaves, Father. Why do they have to suffer that much? The United Nations General Assembly will start to tackle feminist agendas to end global problems for this week. That is one of reasons why I have been here longer than usual. I was invited by a colleague. And you won't believe the people I will meet there! In attendance are President Obama, Prime Minister Trudeau, Secretary-General Ban Ki-Boom, and other delegates (some are kings!) of foreign countries, according to my sources. I'm used to meeting world leaders, Father, that's correct but not all of them at once. I should have retired from work sooner if this is how I will live as a volunteer and representative of the World Economic Forum. How about Vladimir Putin? We're still friends. I still want free hotel accomodation in Moscow whenever I get the chance to relax. While I was watching the news though, there was another batch of refugees who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea. Again. Did you hear about it? Oh right there is no television in heaven. But is there like a grand council who decides when a group of people's mortal lives are taken away from them when all they wanted was to survive and escape the war? Is there a black hole in the Mediterranean Sea? Is the Atlantis located there? Come to think of it, their prayers have been answered. They are in a safer place now. Can you tell me what heaven looks like, Father? It had been such a delight to feel your divine intervention, Father. I'd be glad to update you as soon as I get my dysfunctional mind working again. You don't have to worry about me, Father. I have been fighting the same battle for years. If I have discovered a feasible solution to whatever has been bothering me, you would be the first to know but I bet you a million dollars he's going back to New Orleans anytime soon, without even telling me when he's coming back. See you sooner than later! I love you best, Father! Love, Hyacinth Athena Descartes

She retired to bed after writing the letter and gazed at the only person who makes her crazy. How on Earth did she allow this person to make her so vulnerable? Immediately after closing her eyes, she felt her body falling too fast, falling deeper each second. She wanted to open her eyes but she has lost control. After what it feels like two minutes of wandering in a pitch-black wilderness, the warm morning beams tickled her senses. She awoke, wanted to sleep some more but her mind tells her otherwise. Everyone was there, standing inside their huge, high-ceiling living room. They were all waiting for her. She recognized her daughters Hyamidalla Irish, Seraphiel Guinevere and Lucia Henriette with their beaus. Even his bachelor son was present. He doesn't like reunions. Keeva brought all her children with her too, with her husband standing right behind her. The Houghtons are in the far right of Andréas. Then she noticed a young girl who seems to be out of place in this picture perfect complete happy family. "Who is she?" she asked no one in particular. She was taking one step at a time down the staircase and nobody would want to make eye contact with her. "Seems like we have a visitor here, mind to introduce us, Mother?" "I don't think I'm the right person for that, darling." She was surprised to see her late brother among the crowd. He is not supposed to be here with them, he should be in heaven, she thought. But to make it all the more bizarre, he held her hands. He was saying something but she couldn't quite understand a word. She understood though that he was sorry for her. "Is she your adopted daughter, Adrian?" Adrian Yvés is her eldest son. They don't have the most admirable relationship as mother and son but Yvés has always been there for her mother. He was polite and modest with his life endeavors with the exception of its romantic facet. "No, Mother." "Is she your girlfriend, Andrei?" "No, Mother." She had to repeat herself, "Then who is she? Anybody?" Andréas felt obliged to answer her finally, "She's Michaela." "Oh why thank you, hon," she crossed her arms, waiting for more information. "She needs us. Her mother died last week. She's only 17. And she's my daughter..." Hyacinth wasn't prepared for any of it. She didn't want to hear more. It can't be true, she must be dreaming. For a moment there she felt like everybody knew but her. She rushed to the study room. There displayed an enormous wedding photo of a once upon a time the two happiest people in the whole world. Beside it is her portrait wearing her favorite purple dress. Another frame contained their family picture when Andrei was seven. Oh how time flies. This room has always been her sanctuary. The room was filled with good memories of her life-long pursuit for happiness. She met him in that very same room. And it was fitting for the room to witness how it will all end. He followed her, "You have to hear me out, please." She wanted to say, "You have until 4 PM to get rid of your dearest darling daughter. She is not welcome here. This property is under my name. This house is mine. You can't use my Mother to impose her ridiculous traditional values on me about family this time. She doesn't have any right to say who stays here or not. You can't come home to me one day with the evidence of how you cheated on me all these years. You are such a coward for hiding her. After seventeen years, you had the audacity to bring her here, of all places? She is not welcome in New York City either. I have adopted kids before and I don't mind adopting one more if only the kid will not remind me of the biggest mistake of my life. The last thing I want to read in the newspapers is my cheating, lying bastard of a husband having an illegitimate daughter. I will never accept your daughter with another woman. Take her anywhere, I couldn't care any less. Or may I suggest that you kill her yourself, like the savage beast that you naturally are." But she said nothing. She cried in silence. He knew her loving wife has the kindest, biggest heart in the world (not always, but still). She volunteers for the United Nations. She conducts lectures at The School of Economics for free. She donated her inheritance to the International Monetary Fund to finance projects in developing countries and stabilize the world's monetary supply. She has never turned down anyone who needed her help. She made sure all her children and grandchildren has a house to come home to. He wanted to remind her how she adopted five kids and gave them everything they needed and more. So what is the difference of one more? "You are better than this, love." She wiped her tears and turned her chair to face him, "No, I'm better off without you. Don't you dare call me love. I should have always known." He was defeated, "I know sorry will never be enough but let me make it up to you." She was as calm as the ocean after a storm, "You need to sign the divorce papers tomorrow morning, 10 AM, at the law firm. Expect Leah to walk you through all those pages. You are dismissed." "Not like this, please." "If you don't want to leave, I will." She stood up and walked out of the room. He caught her arm, "It was unintentional, an accident. They needed me desperately." Tears started to blur his vision. This is not the reaction he expected from her. He couldn't think straight. He didn't know what else to say. He knew she always wanted the whole truth. She was staring at him blankly. She was too hurt to speak. "Let me go," she huffed. "You're my everything, Icy. I have faith in us; in you, mostly." The words were echoing in her ears. She had to cover her ears from its gradual intensity each passing second. She felt more tears in her cheeks. Andi was being taken by the dark. The ground was shaking beneath their feet. The walls were enclosing them in. It was only a dream. She woke up, catching her breath. It was exhausting. She felt an unquenchable thirst for air and water and energy. She woke up a million dollars richer, too. The stocks market was kicking in again. Oh how she loves playing this expectations game. Later that week, Andréas found Annicka and Hyacinth chatting inside the study room. "Speaking of the devil, he's here." Hyacinth beamed at him, welcoming him back yet again, after four days of not seeing each other. He kissed her cheek, sat beside her on the sofa's arm and rested his arm on her shoulders. "What are you lovely girls talking about? Both of you seem so animated and enthusiastic tonight!" "My sister here is smitten and she wants to be a Canadian," Annicka giggled. "Why?" Hyacinth was delighted to share, "Oh I've met their Prime Minister this morning at the United Nations General Assembly. And I'm so in love with him, hon. He's the man of my dreams!" She winked at Annicka. "Okay?" "I'll leave you two, alright?" Annicka excused herself on cue. "I'm so honored to be sitting in the same table as him in our leadership luncheon. He's so good-looking and the coolest Prime Minister ever! Why don't we get a house in Canada, hon?" She held his hands. He didn't seem to appreciate the gesture. "But you have a house in Quebec, right?" "I gave that to Keeva's friend. The girl won't stop asking for it." "Stay with Lucia. She lives there, right?" "Oh please, I want to be neighbors with the Prime Minister and see him every single day. I can't wait to be best friends with Sophie! He mentioned she's just fabulous!" "I reckon this Sophie is his wife?" She nodded. "Why would you be friends with your crush's wife?" "Why wouldn't I? If you're going to be my ex-husband and you are having a new wife, I'd definitely be friends with her. It reduces the hard feelings." "Stop thinking about things that will never happen." She lingered in his eyes and felt sincerity in his words. Or is that what she wanted to see? Why was she testing the waters?

#mine #andi

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autumn-elwood · 7 years ago

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The Reunion

Sorry, this is late. April was crazy.

Also available on: Blogger

Kain couldn’t help but feel bored for some odd reason. He honestly shouldn’t be feeling bored with the number of adventures Cyrus and himself had been on together since they took up the pseudonyms, Castor and Pollux, and joining the cavern of Hermes.

They had made tons of new friends in Eris, Apollo, Thanatos, and Persephone. They had raided a slave auction and dug up objects and tomes from the buried pre-rest buildings in the dunes of the Estival Desert. They had even met up with Lady Alma to make sure she was getting on alright, for crying out loud. Kain was safe from Lord Zafar. Cyrus was safe from Lord Zafar. They got to transcribe books and sell them in Apple-polish market.

Why was he so bored?!

“Um… Are there any titles you would recommend?” a familiar voice queried.

He looked up to see a man with short blond hair and a scruffy beard. He looked familiar too. Had he met this man before?

“Oliver Twist’s pretty―,” he began before cutting himself off, the man’s identity becoming shockingly clear.

“You bastard,” Kain growled, eyes filled with rage.

The bastard blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond to Kain’s sudden insult.

“Pollux,” he heard Cyrus say with a sharp a sharp warning before making apologies to the customer.

Kain clenched his fists, his anger rising even higher after realizing Cyrus didn’t recognize the bastard in front of them. And even worse, the no good lying son of a bitch didn’t recognize them either. Kain threw a hand in front of his brother in a clear sign for the younger boy to be quiet. Cyrus’ voice faded off and he stared at his brother nervously, wondering what Kain was going to say.

“How dare you show your face here in front of me after what you did!” Kain sneered.

The man looked flustered as he glanced around the market at the stares they were attracting. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong―”

Kain slammed his hands on the front of the stall, cutting the man off.

“How dare you show your face after you abandoned your wife and children to the mercy of Lord Zafar!” he screamed, a mixture of hysteria and anger coloring his words

Cyrus gasped as the meaning of those words sunk in.

“Kain,” the man proclaimed in shock.

Kain slugged him straight in the nose.

Sick satisfaction filled him as the bastard stumbled back and landed on his ass. The bastard let out a short “fuck”. Cyrus stiffened and let out a squawk like he wanted to shout “language!” but didn’t because he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.

“Pollux, Castor, what’s going on?” asked the hurried and stern voice of Captain Hephaestus. His coat was rumpled like he had just woke up and the goggles on his head were crooked. His were slightly frantic with concern. Were the boys in danger? Had Zafar’s men come for his boys?

Cyrus let out some sporadic unintelligible attempts of explanation before settling with staring at his… father. The father he hadn’t seen for years. The father he hadn’t seen since before his mother died. The father whose face was a blur and decaying photos hidden in the fabric of their suitcase. The father he could hardly remember. He couldn’t believe it: what were the odds that they would run into their father at the stall they were working at, in a town about 60 miles from Zafar’s manor. It seemed so improbable that it was impossible, yet here we are. Talk about a shock you never thought you’d receive. He would be less surprised if his mother rose from the grave to tell him he was pregnant.

He desperately wanted to hug the man. He wanted to run away into the desert and be buried in the sand. He wanted to cry. He wanted to ask him why he had never come back for them. But above all that, Cyrus just wanted to throw up.

“Just an unruly customer,” rumbled Kain’s muffled voice.

“Do you really expect me to believe that, Pollux? You just decked a customer…”

Cyrus stumbled toward the fallen figure. His… father looked up at him. Confusion, embarrassment, and fear were held captive in his eyes but there was no recognition. He didn't recognize Cyrus. He didn't recognize Kain. Cyrus’ vision began to blur and a hot flame consumed his chest.

A series of “I hate you" ‘s forced themselves through his lips. His throat felt tight like he couldn't breathe.

Cries of “Castor" echoed in his ears. A glint of gold light grabbed his shoulder. He flinched away. Gold bracelet- it’s only Athena, he thought in panic. She backed off and started humming in his ear, a surprisingly gentle thing for the stoic assassin. Persephone’s green hair flashed in his peripherals as she wrapped him in a hug. His low moan of “no" and the burning arms disappeared.

Eris was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she was behind them in her dark scarves, twisting her hands together nervously, unsure of what to do. That was for the best in this instance.

A confused and angry murmur rose from the voices of Captain Hephaestus, Apollo, Thanatos, and Kain. His family.

“Why did you leave us?” He wailed quietly.

Kain pushed past Hephaestus and began yelling at their father anew. The Captain wrapped his arms around his brother, barely stopping him from grabbing their father by his clothes and shaking him down.

“Answer him you piece of garbage or so help me I’ll cut off your genitals and feed them to a lion you absolute fuck beaver!”

“Why!” Cyrus asked firmly, trying to pull himself together.

Tears began streaming from the man’s golden eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I came back but As far told me you had all died… That he had killed you. I’m sorry… Please, where is your mother? Where is Amira?”

He looked so pathetic that it tore at Cyrus’ guts. He wanted to say it was okay but… the explanation felt hollow and tasted like spoiled milk on his tongue.

“Liar!” Kain shrieked. “You left us and never once looked back. Mom died and you weren't there. I lost my leg and you weren't there. Cyrus almost died and is permanently scarred all over his body and you weren't there. When we needed you there, you weren't, you were just gone and you don't get to say you're sorry and say you thought us dead, like that'll fix anything.”

“Kain… I’m–"

“No. No more ‘I'm sorry.’ Pick a book, buy it, and get out of here. We don't need you anymore!”

Cyrus violently wiped away his tears. Their father’s eyes looked broken. Kain needn't have been so sharp but he was right. The man needed to leave. It was too late for them to be a family and Cyrus didn't handle having this man back in their lives. He could forgive the man’s actions but he just could not forgive the man. He couldn't. What does that say about me, he thought bitterly, dewdrops trying to sneak from the corners of his eyes.

“Please… sir. Go,” he whispered hoarsely.

”Are you okay, boys?” Captain Hephaestus asked after… Tarea left.

Before either of them could spit out a lie, Apollo cut in, “That’s a stupid question. Of course, they're not okay. Jeez, way to be sensitive.”

Hephaestus flushed. “Well, what was I supposed to say?”

Thanatos crossed his arms, a frown etched on his face. “I don't have anything better but not that.”

“Do you need some space, perhaps?” Eris suggested, moving forward with confidence, relieved the tears were gone.

Kain’s mouth was set in a firm line and his eyes were alight with concern. “I think that would be an acceptable question to start with but I have never been very good at comforting.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “Do you need space, Castor?”

“No-o, Brother. I’d rather not be alone right now.”

Athena gave his hand a tight squeeze and Persephone pulled him into a sidearm hug, wary of making him uncomfortable again. “Oh, honey,” she whispered.

Athena glanced at Hephaestus from the corner of her eye.

“We should close the stall. Head back to the Library.”

Hephaestus turned to the stall in dismay. The novels lay on the ground covered in sand from where they fell when Kain smacked the stall. Kain turned ruby and rushed towards the books.

“I'll pack up for today.”

He dropped down shakily, almost dislodging his prosthetic.

“Pollux, you…” Hephaestus started.

“Let him,” muttered Thanatos. “He needs something mundane to calm his nerves. He hasn't had to yell like that in months. He hasn't felt so in danger in months either.”

Hephaestus bit his lip and nodded.

Cyrus wondered what he was thinking. Captain Hephaestus really cared for them, more than anyone had in years, they all did. The caravan was truly like a family. Captain Hephaestus was like the father with Athena at his side like a mother. Thanks and Eris acted like the anti-social uncle and aunt who really cared for the family but were left confused due to never having had their own children. Apollo was like the cool big brother and Persephone the caring older sister.

Kain and himself were the youngest of the group at 16 and 17. The babies of the family.

Cyrus had never been happier. He finally understood why the group didn't need to tell each other their identities to trust each other. One’s past did not define you if you didn't let it.

“It's time to go home,” Apollo shouted.

Cyrus blinked.

Home.

A home. A home with a mother and a father. A home with an aunt and an uncle. A home with three caring older siblings that would all die and live for one another. A home where it was safe. A home where no one would hurt you.

Cyrus felt a smile bloom on his lips.

“We’re coming,” he shouted, pulling Athena and Persephone up as he stood.

“Cas,” Persephone laughed. “I’m going to kill you.

He smirked at her and broke into a run.

“Try to catch me, Sister.”

Thanks for reading!

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#writing #autumn writes #original #the caravan of hermes #Kain #Cyrus

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