#I'm gonna clean up this page a little more later but for now I'm tired | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

13feathers · 2 years ago

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I guess I'll start by saying. It's a windy day on the coast of new England ,

the sun is planning to set soon and I'm only working three days this week due to thanksgiving. So I'm kind of looking forward to a four day weekend. But to be honast. Part of me is not.

I used to be happy. Lately I haven't.

I tried to find a mental health advisor, therapist, shrink, call them whatever you want. But that became more of an issue due to scheduling and working a full time job. Nothing ever lined up. Wether it was the shrink or the times available or both...

I'm not suicidal. I'm actually pretty sane. And that'll be understood I guess , by you...the reader ...after a little time and words.

I've just been dealt a load of shit over an extended period of time. And I need to vent. I need to get it out. I couldn't keep up with downturns. So I started watching psych professors on line to try and figure out alot of what's going on in my head.

Beleive me. I'm not one to look outwardly for help with my mental state. I've always tried to hold it together. Beleiving whole heartedly that I could figure it out on my own and proud. Very proud of the fact that I got through alot of a hard life sanity intact.

But now I find myself in a bit of a depression. And winter's setting in.

I'm not scared. I just want out. I want me back. The real me. Not this tired , down, version. The happy, fun loving, charasmatic, artful, soulful , unabreviated version that I used to be.

So I'm gonna write. Cause that's what I do.

I'm a songwriter. A writer of prose. A terrible speller. A social drinker of words and concepts and ideas , be it brilliant, blatant, or foolish. As long as they're fresh to the ears or attacked from new angles.

To calm the ruminating thoughts in my head recently. I thought back on a book I read long ago. And recently re read. Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance.

In it the writer describes mechanics as not art. But the opposite of art. Rational thought. The equations add up. If you do this and follow specs then it works. What's supposed to happen. Happens.

Hear me out.

I'm a songwriter. And at the moment , My emotional state is unregulated. Songwriting and writing in general, used to be the tool I used to vent all of that emotion out of me. But I've gotten overloaded.

I've tried to write. But the subject matter gets too deep and disgusts me to write about it. It's become more rhuminating , arguing with ghosts on a page I'd rather leave blank.

So I needed something to do that only allows rational thought.

My brother was a crack head back in the 80's. Man he put my family, my mom and me through hell with the stealing and lieing and waste his life had become back then.

I might go into detail about that time later but for now let's just say it was bad. Especially after just losing our father a couple years previous at 45 yrs old. I was 15 at the time. 17 when my brother got really bad with the crack.

but one day. Something changed.

He wanted to get clean.

We were planning on selling the only house I ever knew and my mom planned on fixing it up. My brother needed to keep his mind occupied on something other than drugs.

He'd sleep all day but at dusk he'd wake up. And he'd knock on my bedroom door. C'mon he'd say. We're gonna paint the stairwell , or were gonna put a new run down in the living room or were gonna put lolly collumns under that sag in the kitchen floor and I'd get up. And I'd follow him to whatever job we were doing that night. And I'd stand there. And watch.

Oh it didn't start out that way... I had every intention of helping but see , my brother had this way of wanting to show me how to do things. That meant even if I knew how to do things better than he did sometimes. So I'd watch. And by the time he was done explaining how to do the job. He was finished with it. So , there ya have it. I watched.

See my brother didn't need any help. He was strong as a bull and knew as much as anyone about building and remodeling. All he wanted was for me to stand there. And listen.

In the beginning there was alot of showing me how. Sometimes silence, ... That's when I knew he was in his head and the craving were bad. But then he'd start talking again. And that's when the realness of why I was there entered the picture.

He'd try to teach me how to do things. He'd talk and I'd listen and he'd tell me stories and spew what we referred too as useless knowledge. But sometimes. He'd tell me things. Things he needed to admit to someone. Admit to himself take responsibility for things out loud hold hiself accountable for wrongs How much crack he'd do. How he started in the first place , the stuff he'd do when he was on it or for it. Those were hard nights to listen too. when he finally realized he needed to get sober. it was his way of atoning for the guilt of it all. And I was the one who he confided all that too. But he needed that rational thought. That zen work. That kept his mind from rhuminating on his addiction. And that's why I'm writing this.

He went on to marry his highschool sweetheart who stuck by him through his bullshit. And he had four kids with her and raised them all with her.

Me and my bro used to build motorcycles. We built everything actually. Starting from when we were young. Go carts turned into bicyles then minibikes turned into motorcycles then cars, then crack....... For him. And he was there. But gone for a while. When he got clean. Bikes came back into the picture. Harley's BSA's Norton's, triumphs, we built em. Even a few cb 750s in savior frames.

My dad was a master mechanic and a songwriter / musician. Me and my brother kinda got that from him. My bro, he was the master machanic who dabbled in playing guitar. I was the songwriter with bands who dabbled in machanics.

I really not sure if I'm rambling , I'm really not sure if anyone's gonna want to read this anyway. But I need the release so I'm taking it. But to try to tie this all up and bring it back ......

We lost our mom to matastisized breast cancer in 2011. I was her caregiver. Just as she was the caregiver for my grandmother and my great grandmother before her.

In summer of 2020 , after I had just gotten out of a very bad relationship with an abusive gf I lost my brother to a heart attack. 3 months later I lost my sister to closet alchaholism.

I thought things were looking up last year tho until my last relationship also turned sour and ended pretty badly.

All of that kinda sent me on a downward spiral of depression with pretty much my entire support group now gone.

And then , in October of this year I lost my niece. My brothers daughter. Who's only 4 days younger than my own daughter.

It's alot. But like I said. I'm gonna try to write myself better.

So upon realizing I'm in over my head with my head. I needed a little zen work, rational thought, something to do outside of the constant overthinking so instead of home improvement. I decided to start building a vintage motorcycle. You'll be seeing the work on here eventually. It's the first build by myself. Without my bro telling me I'm doing it wrong.

And the second part. I need an ear. Someone to listen. Or at least an abyss to scream into... And that's where you come in....

So I might throw in some words, maybe elaborate and write myself through some of the feelings I have about these things I've written tonight. And maybe even a few songs.

For now I think I'm done for the night.

And thank you very much for reading.

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years ago

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You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special.

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger.

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

“Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him.

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected.

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered.

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

#miramu writes #felinette fluff #felinette #felix/marinette #canon!felix #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #its corona time

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catharrington · 4 years ago

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I'm so in love with your Catboy!Steve pieces! And now because of them I can't get out of my mind the idea of Billy teasing Steve by calling him 'Kitten' and Steve hissing and showing his teeth at him, demanding Billy to stop calling him 'that' so serious and offended that Billy, in fact, stops but. The problem is that. Secretly, Steve loves it. It just make him feel too vulnerable to admit it. But he misses it sooooo much that one day he climbs up Billy's lap, hides his face into the crook of his neck and whispers, so close it's barely audible, "Will you call me Kitten again?" and Billy will basically melt and pet at his ears "Of course I will, Kitten"

I just love so much the idea of Billy calling him all kinds of pet names and Steve secretly loving it 😻😻

Thank you so much for enjoying my cat boy content!!! And yes. Oh my gosh yes you are correct!! Billy so loves to tease:

Pretty cat, the words hang in the air gentle like soft pieces of lint floating through the windows of a sunny morning. Steve doesn’t hate them, lays in the sunlight of those words and lets it soak into his fur a little.

Billy said them with so much authority, so much fondness, that he can’t help but to believe him.

Steve loves those words. In that order. Some others he has mixed feelings about.

It’s been a week since the aforementioned kidnapping, and Steve has taken a habit of burrowing himself into Billy’s sheets and blankets as soon as he gets up to head into work.

Four days out of the week it’s early in the morning, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. And then late nights bring Billy home in heavy workboots stomping out dusty clouds. On fridays it’s a later start, and he comes home sooner. Just as dirty. Takes a shower, or sometimes a bath.

Steve curls his long fingers around Billy’s pillow. Brings it close to him, nuzzles his nose into the soft with time cotton so just his eyes and pointy ears follow Billy as he paces the room to get ready for work. Collecting his clothes before stepping into the bathroom, winking over his shoulder ain’t gonna expose myself to ya, don’t worry, kitten.

And Steve just thumps his tail with a thoughtful flick, rhythmically hitting onto the comforter. Thinking to himself he wouldn’t mind.

Doesn’t say anything like that, of course, the only words Steve ever mutters is a stilted bye. And this sunshine bright day, he mutters a soft don’t call me that.

Billy’s closing the door behind him, his words almost lost even to himself as he starts to head out. He pops the door back open with almost a perfectly timed three second delay. What did you say? He asks expectantly.

And Steve, who followed him to the living room. Followed him to the kitchen. Lingering by the now empty coffee pot as it had all been poured into Billy’s to go cup. Just smelling what Billy’s breath must taste like during all his rushed good mornings. Maybe his off to work kisses would be bitter as the black coffee.

He turns his head almost absentmindedly. Don’t call me kitten, he repeats quietly.

Billy scoffs, thinks it’s a joke. Says alright, sugar, before closing the door again.

He calls him it again as they are lounging around that Saturday. Billy’s work books parked at the doorway. And his hands busy stirring and stirring a wooden spoon around a tall pot of sauce. Steve flicks across the pages of one of Billy’s books he keeps on a small shelf by his bed. Well loved and broken spines. Steve doesn’t want to read them as much as he wants to see where Billy’s loved them.

He can barely hear the word over the noise of the album playing. Loud crooning of guitars and drums, even louder voices. But he hears that word again. Billy’s voice sounds like a song as he calls how spicy do you like it, kitten? And Steve would love the thoughtful question dearly if it weren’t for that word.

And repeats himself, a little louder, don’t call me kitten.

From the kitchen, Billy turns over his shoulder. Levels Steve with those crystal blue eyes and his half smirk. Says alright, sugar, then he’s back singing again.

Sounds terrible, sounds like music Steve wouldn’t listen to by himself, but he does enjoy the way Billy uses the red saucy wooden spoon as a microphone to sing into. Really enjoys the way his hips sway with the motions of his silly dancing. Steve flicks the page to the next and let’s it slide.

The thrid time Billy’s following him with those heavy boots, that thick cowboy stride, missing everything but the spurs jingling. Not missing his lips rolled over his white teeth in a warning snarl. This apartments not big enough for the both of us. He’s following Steve into the bedroom when he says that word through his snarl.

Steve matches one right back. A sharper one, a whiter one, one with teeth that come to cruel points. Repeats what he said before. Don’t call me kitten, this time seriously.

And Billy seems to finally get it. But he doesn’t stop. Waits at the doorway while Steve shrugs off his jacket. He just got back from walking home from work, the library in town he was lucky enough to get a job at. Some places have no intention of hiring a cat boy at all. Some places had laughed at his face.

And Steve’s tired of it. Throws his jacket with enough force it make it bounce off the soft comforter. His voice comes out a mean dragging hiss, don’t talk to me like that. I’m not some thing for you to order around. I’m here because I want to be. And he turns to glare right at Billy. Meaner even than the night he scratched up his biceps getting tugged into a bath.

Billy doesn’t get it this time, seems to get angrier about it. He throws his hands up and spins. Like he wants to grab at something. Like he wants to wrap his meaty fingers around and choke something. Instead he settles on pounding two angry fists into the doorframe.

You don’t get it, he shouts, pretty kitten like you is a target for guys, okay, they would love to just chew you up and spit you right back out. Take you home and chain you to a fuckin’ wall, do you get it? And he turns from the wall to jab a finger at Steve’s face. To make sure he gets it. To make sure he’s afraid of the men who can take advantage in the night. Like how Billy’s trained himself to be such a light sleeper— because he knows.

But he stops his next words in his throat. Swallows them back down into his gut and lets them burn themselves out.

Because Steve’s face is glossy with tears down his cheek bones. His brows almost touching in an angry, furrowed scowl. His ears pressed flat back across his limp hair. He looks angry, and afraid. All at the same time.

And Billy hates himself more feverishly than he’s ever hated himself before. He chokes out an I’m sorry, hey, I’m so fuckin sorry I didn’t— I’m just worried— but that gets caught too.

Because Steve’s pushing past him with his fists held at his sides, a strong shoulder shoved into Billy’s shoulder so he can get by, and then the bathroom door is slamming closed. Steve spends the whole night in the bathroom.

Spends the night curled in the cold tub with his tail wrapped around his ribs. Taking shallow, wet breaths.

Billy spends the whole night awake looking at the bathroom door. Remembering the way Steve’s old collar looked when he took it off that pretty skin. How it left a branding almost of its cruelty. It’s abuse and, and Billy’s stomach feels a lot like the mold on that old leather.

He doesn’t use the word again.

Presses a soft kiss to Steve’s head when he finally sees him one work shift later. The first thing he does when he gets home. Before he gives him a worn out bottle of pepper spray he had kept stashed in his glove box. Says, I know it ain’t as strong as your nails. Or your teeth. Or you damn bull-headedness. But could you carry this? If just for me?

So Steve takes it. Clips it to the inside of a zipper in his work bag. Tucks it behind the books he’s borrowed from Billy’s shelf to read in the break room.

It wouldn’t be until later, when Steve decides to try letting someone else in. Letting someone close enough to hurt him. To hit him. To love him. That he decides to try reclaiming that word.

There’s plastic gnarland flowing across the living room and right into the kitchen. There’s a vinyl album playing but it isn’t Billy’s. It’s his family’s, he says, surprised the old thing still works, but this is Christmas to me. And the needle scratches along old carols played on a piano. There’s a thin, sparse, half dead tree sitting by the window. Lit up with steady red and green lights. Some pretty ornaments hung with care. A handful of hand wrapped gifts collected under its low branches.

Steve crawls onto Billy’s lap. And his kiss might not taste like black coffee, but it does taste like hot chocolate. And his hands are soft snd clean as they pet through his hair. Pet across his sensitive ears so gently. Steve lays his head down on Billy’s shoulder just to hear the steadiness of his breath.

He gulps. Then he whispers you can call me kitten.

And Billy exhales shaky-like, like he couldn’t believe it. Laughs low in his chest that Steve can feel rumbled over into his own chest. Feels so good. Then Billy whispers back of course I will, kitten.

#harringrove #cat boy Steve #I’m here and I’m queer for soft piano music #thank you so much for these asks!!! I am getting. to them. slowly but surely!!!!

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thebraingremlinsaremad · 3 years ago

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Daily Blog #15: August 22, 2021

Dollar Tree is honestly pretty fucking awesome 👌👌👌

I set my alarm for like 6:25 this morning, but it took 6 minutes for the "Horsin' Around" theme song instrumental to wake me up. I was pretty tired lol. I just dismissed it and went back to sleep.

I only went back to sleep because I knew I had another alarm set for 7:00. That got me up.

I should mention that this was still in the RV over an hour away from the house.

After I got up, I went to go get a shower, and did so successfully.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten my brush this time and had to do it afterwards after my hair had a bit of time to dry, which did make it a little more difficult lol.

I got dressed and grabbed my stuff, putting it into my car.

I made it a point to see and say "see you later" to my grandparents before I left for the flea market.

My dad insisted that I stayed to say goodbye to my mom, so I left.

I did NOT have cell service up there, as was mentioned in my previous 2 blogs of which I could only post today, so finding my way was a tiny bit difficult until I got some service to ask Google to take me to "...".

It worked and I got there.

On my drive, I listened to 1 by Simple Kid, a CD I had previously purchased at a Dollar Tree location.

I got a call from the guy at the flea market saying that I had some people there waiting for me. He asked how far away I was, to which I said "about 10 minutes." Ironically, that call made me miss my exit, as Google couldn't talk during the call, and added about 3 minutes to my arrival time lmao.

I did sell the Xbox that he said someone was interested in. I got $40 for it. I spent 27¢ on it. Pretty good return if you ask me.

I couldn't sell it with anything other than a power cord because the controller and AV cables I had been using to play it there were for my personal console. I'm just glad I can actually hook my Xbox up and stop having to drag them to the flea market along with a small library of games.

Not too long after I sold the Xbox, someone came in and asked if I wanted to see some electronics he had in his car. I went out with him. It was a pair of 3ft speakers and a Pioneer audio system with dual cassette decks (although neither of them works) and a 25 Disc CD-changer, as well as the standard AM/FM tuner. Additionally, there was a Fisher amplifier and AM/FM tuner as well as a Fisher Direct Drive turntable. He said he wanted $60 for em, but before that he casually, and probably accidentally, dropped that he was just gonna take em to the thrift store.

Big mistake.

I got em for $35 lmao. THERE GOES MOST OF MY PROFIT.

Oh well.

I tested everything. As I mentioned, the cassette decks don't work, but everything else does apart from the turntable needing a new stylus.

I posted some new photos of the shop to Facebook, and someone soon DMed me about a stereo system.

I priced everything, and it turns out I have about $300 worth of equipment from that deal, the Fisher amp and tuner being worth about $150.

The buyer will hopefully show up next weekend, for he wants to buy the Fisher stuff ($185 with the turntable), the 3ft speakers, an 8-track deck, and a Kenwood deck we've had for a week or two.

The speakers are listed for $50 (and are worth around $100-150), the Kenwood Deck for $50 as well, and the 8-track for $35. That makes it about $320 in equipment. Since he's buying so much, I'll knock it down to $270 and essentially give him the speakers or cassette deck for free lol.

Apart from that stuff, not much happened at the flea market. I sold some records, cassettes, CDs and I think 2 DVDs. One person bought a VHS tape? That money was the other guy's though. Oh well xD.

I can't say that I didn't miss my wonderful partner while on the trip. I actually brought along the stuffed animal they gave me (who's name is Greg) and snuggled with him both nights.

I was very happy to hear from them UwU.

They let me rant and I let them rant.

I honestly give them too much responsibility over me xD. I'm like, "Okay, I'm gonna do this. HOLD ME TO IT."

I know I can't hold myself to anything I personally say (this blog being the only exception apparently), but I listen to them pretty well I think 🤔. If they tell me, "No, you don't need that VCR," so long as it's not some weird specialty thing, like a worldwide VCR 🥵, I'll be like "Yeah, you rite bro."

I love you man xD. You control my craziness pretty well. I'm so thankful for you UwU.

#relationshipgoals

So part way through the flea market day, I went over to Dollar Tree to buy some snack, but ended up looking through the CDs to see if there was anything good. I took photos of about 18 CDs and flipped through them online for the remainder of the flea market day.

I deleted the photos of the ones I didn't want and kept those that I liked. Surprisingly, I ended up buying 13 CDs there, but not before dropping them on the floor like the dumbass I am.

Also, sorry for all the nerd shit I spilled on your lap earlier. No one cares about amps and tuners xD.

I'M LISTENING TO ONE OF THE DOLLAR TREE CDS RIGHT NOW THO.

I already transferred over to my online library on iBroadcast and put the disc into my CD changer, which is now holding 164 CDs.

Its max capacity is 300 discs 🥵

WHY AM I NERD

Oh well

I like being a nerd gurl

Also maybe a technosexual 👀

I get really excited over some electronics. Like. REALLY excited.

Some editing VCRs are like "Holy shit that is SEXY. Look at those goddamn VU meters 🥵. And hhhh there are like 7 inputs on this thing and individual controls for left and right audio gain, not to mention Hi-Fi S-VHS recording. Hhhhhhhhhhh please gimme 😭. Why are you so expensive?"

I uh, mean, uh, *cough* look, pretty lights.

Oh yeah, I was gonna say the album I was listening to xD. MAN I GOT SIDETRACKED.

It's 37 Everywhere by Punchline. Def give it a listen; it's pretty heccin good.

Another notable album I picked up was Page One by Steven Page. I very much like the first track, "A New Shore." It's quite catchy and he has a great voice imo.

Also at dollar tree, I bought a regular bag of Fieras and 2 bags of Fieras Sticks, which were marked down to 75¢/bag because they're expiring soon.

I honestly like the generic Dollar Tree version of Takis more than actual Takis. They're a lot more flavorful when it comes to the lime, but also hotter at the same time.

Don't get the hot nacho ones tho. Hot nacho? More like hot pile of shit.

HAH

Goteem.

They're not that good xD.

THE REGULAR ONES ARE FIRE THO

"How do you do fellow kids?"

I got home and started working on putting the CDs onto my computer, and then onto iBroadcast, but not without first adding The Music Man to my digital library, something I had neglected for a month or two. The CD had just been sitting there lol.

I also switched my digital file for "The Black Parade" to that of the uncensored CD, which I had purchased before I event started working over 2 months ago.

MAN I'M LAZY

I eventually get around to shit tho lol. I guess it's just a matter of priority.

What usually takes priority is digging through everything to find something that I forgot about but then remembered, making a mess in the process that I would then have to clean up, at least partially.

I think the album just ended. I've been writing for a while xD. I'ma start "I Made You Something" by The Island of the Misfit Toys.

I'll tell you where that album came from in a minute.

In the meantime, where was I?

I kinda lost my train of thought despite reading up to see where I was. Oh well. On I go.

I ate dinner and kept working on those CDs, eventually putting my clothes from the week into the washer.

I FORGOT TO PUT MY SHAPING UNDERWEAR IN. FUCKING HELL MAN.

I wanted to wash em for this week 😭

No tight pants for Leonna I guess qwq.

Meanwhile, the box of my CD album cases is overflowing. I need another box.

I keep all of the album artworks in a big CD folder. That's almost full.

I wanna fill my entire CD changer. That's one of my big goals in life. Idk why, but I just wanna legitimately fill the entire thing.

My clothes are in the dryer now. I don't think I have the time (or energy) to fold them tonight. I'll leave that for tomorrow morning before work.

And God. Fucking. Damnit. I start school again on Wednesday. NOT looking forward to that, and neither are my 2 coworkers. We already have low enough staff, but only the two of them working is gonna be a pain in the ass.

I'll still work Saturdays.

I need to contact my guidance counselor to get out of the gym class I signed up for. I scheduled this shit before I found out I was trans, and I don't wanna deal with the fucking locker room situation 🙄 I have far more important matters.

Okay so anyway, the album I'm listening to came from a cassette. I bought this cassette a few months ago at the flea market along with a few others. The reason I bought them? They were all newer cassette releases from the 2010's, and they're all actually pretty good music from very indie bands.

Currently getting mad at iBroadcast's compression algorithm. It's unnaturally fucking anything over -10db up. Oh well, there's not really anything I can do about it.

I have like 13GB of music on my phone btw. That's about 3.5k songs on 268 albums.

I'm kind of an audiophile, but I'm too cheap to pay for a lossless service. Oh well.

They do actually have a lossless service on iBroadcast, but once again, too cheap.

Someone just sent me a friend request who legitimately posted that BLM and the democratic party are hate groups.

BLOCK.

Goodbye ho.

I don't get that. They call the democratic party a hate group when they hate people like me, and I, being more of a democrat although not fully because the 2-party system is fucked, think nothing more of them than they're very wrong about certain things, especially, as shown, that black people, as well as asian, Indian, native, and people of all ethnicities and backgrounds, are not equal to white people.

Yeh.

Totally.

You go buddy.

Anyway, yeah, I can, and do, convert music and video from analog formats to digital files in order for me to archive and listen to whenever and wherever I please. I've actually made a bit of a business out of it, but I don't get too much work from it. At least I'm not overloading myself xD.

I honestly have so much more to say, but I should probably go to sleep soon.

A few final shoutouts to the following people and companies:

-Dollar Tree

-Steven Page

-Broken World Media

-The Island of Misfit Toys

-Simple Kid

-Punchline

-My incredible partner QwQ I love you so much. Thanks for being the best all the time. I hope I can give you the best life ever.

Anyway I suppose this is goodnight. Lmk if you want a full list of the CDs I bought today! I'll link that song by Steven Page here.

And here's a good song from Simple Kid

I really like music lol. Enjoy these pieces.

Anyway, goodnight lol.

Lots of love,

-Leonna.

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blackssuunn-mandoandyodito · 5 years ago

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Tabaco y Brea

Part two

Pairing: Javier Peña x DEA! reader

Rating: M, eventually. Now? PG-13

Words: 3.5k

A/N: well, the first part didn't get many notes but I really love this story. If a single person reads it and likes it, then it's enough for me :)

Warnings: shouting, fighting, swearing, is eating a warning?,jealousy.

Taglist: @dynphomaniac

Part one here

The days passed faster than you would have liked. With so much paperwork added for the Cali mission, you stayed late almost every day. Javi, in an unexpected change of events, stayed with you. He didn't do shit, of course, but his company was comforting. He would softly hum songs sometimes, or get out a book and read it out loud to you.

The night before, he had been singing the Rocky soundtrack for most of it, turning to Led Zeppelin when he finished. You still remember how after you heard on the radio that John Bonham had been found dead in September 1980, he had left the office for a second and stayed in complete silence outside.

And then again in December, when they announced they were going to split. You never mentioned it, and you knew he wouldn't admit it even with a gun pointed at his head, but you were sure you had seen a tear run down his cheek. He was a huge fan, apparently.

Tonight, he was reading Cien Años de Soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude), by Gabriel García Márquez. You loved that author, but you weren't sure if you had ever mentioned it to him. Maybe he knew you enough to figure it out without the need of hearing it straight from your mouth.

"José Arcadio Buendía, que era el hombre más emprendedor que se vería jamás en la aldea, había dispuesto de tal modo la posición de las casas, que desde todas podía llegarse al río y abastecerse de agua con igual esfuerzo, y trazó las calles con tan buen sentido que ninguna casa recibía más sol que otra a la hora del calor." (José Arcadio Buendía, who was the most enterprising man ever to be seen in the village, had set up the placement of the houses in such a way that from all of them one could reach the river and draw water with the same effort, and he had lined up the streets with such good sense that no house got more sun than another during the hot time of day. )

His voice was very soothing to you, even more when he was speaking Spanish. You didn't know if he had noticed, but it got more raspy and deep when he changed languages. It reminded you of the summers spent in México with your father, when he would tell you stories about his childhood in México City or the trips he would do to Nuevo Laredo with your grandma.

He stopped reading for a second and you looked up to see why was that just to find him already staring at you.

"What's wrong?" you asked, not wanting to tell him you were enjoying his reading.

"Do you like this book?"

You nodded, a slight blush spreading in your cheeks. You tended not to give him compliments, his ego was big enough as it was without you contributing, but you figured this one wouldn't hurt.

"He's one of my favorite authors."

He smiled. "I figured"

"You brought that one because you thought I'd like it?"

It was just teasing, of course. You didn't think he'd do such a gesture for you, and the idea of him knowing you so well scared you a little bit.

He ignored you and kept going. " En pocos años, Macondo fue una aldea más ordenada y laboriosa que cualquiera de las conocidas hasta entonces por sus 300 habitantes. Era en verdad una aldea feliz, donde nadie era mayor de treinta años y donde nadie había muerto." ( Within a few years Macondo was a village that was more orderly and hard working than any known until then by its three hundred inhabitants. It was a truly happy village where no one was over thirty years of age and where no one had died.)

You stopped working for a moment, listening to the words he was saying instead.

Did he know how sexy his voice was? How good he sounded? He was one of the smartest people you knew, and you had been to enough places and met enough people to say that with confidence. His mind was sharp, could run 10 miles per minute if the situation required it.

He noticed you were staring and stopped again. His frown got more pronounced, looking at you intrigued.

"What are you looking at?" his tone was defensive. He didn't like it when you stared at him too long, it felt like you could see straight through him, and there were some things he didn't want you to know.

You shook your head and laughed. "You look tired"

With a shrug, he returned his eyes to the book, but you stretched your arm to stop him.

"Now what?"

You took the book from his hands and placed a clean sheet of paper from your desk between the pages he had been reading and closed it. With a soft sound, you let it fall on top of the table.

"It's getting late, we should go"

He straightened, surprised. Usually, he was the one to prey you away from all the paperwork. If he didn't stay with you, he would probably find you there still working the next morning.

"You are telling me we should leave?"

You nodded.

"Quick, before I change my mind."

At that, he stood up like a spring and started collecting his things. You chuckled as you saved the files on the drawer and put your jacket on.

"Let's go"

Two days later, he approached you without no greeting and in a very bad mood.

"The gringo's here"

What a great way to start the morning, you thought.

"Weren't we supposed to pick him up or something?"

Javi shook his head. He seemed frustrated, but you didn't know if it was about the arrival of your new partner or something else. With Javi, you could never guess.

His shoulders were tense, the beige suit he was wearing along with the striped tie and his yellow aviators made him look older and more serious. Had he dressed up to meet the new guy? Really?

"I'm gonna meet him outside at the Embassy's parking lot, wait here"

You nodded and kept filling the paperwork for the Cali raid as he left. You were going to take the new guy with you. You couldn't just dump him, he wasn't brought here to sit around and watch from the sidelines.

You just hoped he did his work.

A few minutes passed when you heard a pair of footsteps walking through the corridor.

"We're going to Medellín?"

That definitely wasn't Javi.

You stood up, turning around to the voice at your back.

You had to suppress a laugh once you took a glance at them.

Their suits were almost the same color, Javi's just a shade darker. Steve Murphy was wearing a light blue shirt along with a navy blue tie, had a mustache similar to Javi's too (but it made him look weird, if you were honest). His hair was dark blonde, combed to one side, and his face gave away a little nervousness. He was also taller than Javi, meaning you had to crank your neck up to meet his eyes.

"Murphy this is Bera. Bera, Murphy." Javi pointed at you as Steve shook your hand. His hold was strong, and he squeezed with enough force to be firm but not enough to hurt you. That came appreciated, every single man who met you always treated you as if you were made of porcelain.

You glared at Javi and told Steve your real name, then clarified, "But everyone calls me Bera"

"Bera?" he asked. You smiled in return.

"Long story, you'll get to know it later"

He smiled too, and they left for the ambassador's office.

As it was everyone's knowledge at the Embassy, she didn't like Javi very much, so you dealt with it when you had to ask her for something. She had a soft spot for you, you guessed it was because she knew how hard it was to be a woman in this line of work. Maybe she didn't like him because of his methods of getting info, you weren't sure.

Once they got out, Javi stood up behind his desk and started moving the few papers he had there. You wondered how he managed to have such a mess considering he only read intel, made calls and left you with everything else.

"Ahora qué se te perdió Peña?" (What did you loose now Peña?)

He glared at you and kept moving his papers. His actions were getting desperate, frustration from before about who knows what affecting him.

Murphy was looking back and forth between the two of you, standing awkwardly between your desks. You didn't know if he had understood what you said, but judging by his face, you guessed he hadn't.

"Recuerdas la informante de la que te hablé?" (Remember the informant I told you about?"

You rolled your eyes. Of course you remembered, he had been seeing her frequently over the past few weeks. He wasn't one to be constant about his hookups, but apparently, she was good enough to keep a streak with him. He hadn't seen her since you had been staying late, but last night you had left early and he went straight to search for her. You didn't have to be a genius to guess what had happened when he found her.

"Helena Sotomayor?" you asked, venom filling your voice. You didn't have anything against her or what she did, but jealousy wasn't something you could avoid easily, especially if you knew how Javier felt about her.

"Si" his voice got deeper as he got angrier, "habrá una reunión de narcos en Medellín, y se irá a la fiesta que harán después"

(Yes, there's gonna be a reunion of narcos in Medellín, and she's leaving for the party they're hosting after)

"And what? You can't get another girl for the night?" you snarled, your tone hard and resentful. Steve looked at you with his eyes wide open, subconsciously getting closer to Javi.

"It's not about that!" Javier raised his arms exasperated, "you don't seem to understand. There's gonna be a meeting with different leaders of cartels, and they're surely planning something"

You scoffed, "yeah idiot, I get that! What I mean is what the hell are you searching for that has to do with her?"

Suddenly his back straightened, and you knew you weren't going to like what he was gonna say next.

"I need to fill a visa request for her"

You felt how your face got red and warmth spread through your body, filling it with jealousy and anger. Your eyes crossed with his and suddenly it had turned into yet another one of your fights. So that's what was bothering him.

Steve looked at Javi, alarmed.

"Is your informant really a prostitute?"

Javi didn't even look at him, "Everybody works for somebody"

You abruptly stood up and took your jacket off of your chair's back, walking fast towards the exit.

"A dónde carajos vas?" (where the fuck are you going?) he screamed, fisting his hands at his sides.

You turned around and showed him the finger.

"It's none of your fucking business!"

Javier and Steve stood there as you left, stunned. Your heels making a clicking sound that resonated in the office. Javier was used to your fighting and your screaming, it was part of your dynamic, but he didn't understand why you had reacted so bad this time. Sure, he knew you weren't fond of his way of finding intel, but you never really did more than glare or tease. This was new.

"Is it always like this with you two?" Steve asked. Javi moved his head from side to side, crinkling his eyes.

"A little less explosive, but yes"

Steve let out a sigh. This was going to be some long couple of months (or years?) for him, he just knew it.

As you walked, your eyes started to fill with tears, but you didn't know if it was out of rage or hurt. You were not one to cry, so you wiped them before they fell and rounded the corner to the right towards the diner you usually ate at.

Once you crossed the street and rounded another corner to the left, in the middle of the street was a big sign that spelled Salomé in cursive. You got inside and sat down at the table from the corner, taking out the money of your jacket's pocket. Catalina (or Cata), the cute old lady that managed it, smiled at you from the counter and walked towards you. You smiled back, doing your best to conceal your feelings.

"Qué hace mi niña preciosa aqui?" (what is my precious girl doing here?) . Her voice was soft, filled with affection. His tone was motherly and you knew she had noticed something was wrong.

You smiled sadly at her. "Solo tengo hambre"( I'm just hungry )

Cata immediately sat down in the chair across you and took your hands between hers. She heard something off in your voice, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Ahora qué hizo ese chamaco malcriado?" (What did that spoiled brat do now?) Her tone changed to playful but angry in a matter of seconds, her frown accentuated even more than it already was by her age.

You shook your head, laughing. Cata was also very fond of Javi, but she knew how much of an idiot he could be. Surprisingly, you had met her before he had, one time you were hungry and the food at the Embassy didn't sound very appealing to your ears or stomach.

"Nada Catita, ya sabes cómo es" (Nothing Catita, you know how he is). You tried to smile and she cupped your head between her hands, caressing your face with his thumb. You put your hand above hers and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Qué quiere comer mi niña?" (What do you want to eat my girl?)

A grin spread across your cheeks. "Ajiaco con pollo, porfa." (Ajiaco with chicken, please. it's a typical food in Colombia, commonly found in Bogotá. It consists of shredded chicken, pastusa, sabanera and/or creole potato, corn and maybe cream milk)

She nodded and stood up, sadness forgotten for a moment.

"Con aguacate y arroz aparte?" (with avocado and rice aside?)

You nodded eagerly. "Sabes que si" (you know it)

The curtains hiding the kitchen opened to her as she walked inside to cook your food. Your heart warmed and clenched a little at how much love she showed you every time you came here, how she genuinely cared for you.

The tablecloth was made of white lace, and you passed your fingers through the surface. It felt gritty to the touch, but its beauty completely overshadowed it. Cata had gifted you one to take home once, and it was now decorating your little table at the living room in the apartment.

The noises of Bogotá surrounded you. It was easy to hear children playing and their mothers screaming at them; people selling fruits, clothes, arguing and laughing. People doing their best to keep living, even with the crisis they were dealing with, the number of narcos that were raising and how much hell they were surely about to unleash in this beautiful country.

It was your job to stop them, to do your best at helping these people get their normal lives back.

The sound of Cata approaching took you out of your thoughts.

"Aquí está mi dulce niña, justo como le gusta" (here it is my sweet girl, just how you like it)

You took the plate of food and tilted your head, thankful. "Gracias Cata" (thank you Cata)

You quickly set your spoon to the food and as you took the first bite, everything you were worried about banished for a second. Javier, the DEA, Escobar, Steve, everything flew out the window.

That's why you had come, because everything could be forgotten for a moment if you choose the right dish to stuff your mouth with.

Cata laughed at your eagerness, patting your shoulder with her soft hand. "Tranquilícese muñequita, que la comida no se le va a ir" (Calm down little doll, the food is not going to get away)

With your mouth full you could only nod, giving her an apologetic smile. She shook her head, eyes soft as they looked at you.

The rest of your meal was spent in silence, his presence comforting to your aching heart. She knew when to speak and when to stay silent, you always talked when you wanted to and it was pointless to try and make you.

Once you finished, you took a napkin and cleaned your mouth, handing her much more money than the food cost. She immediately gave it back to you, shaking her head.

"no no mi niña, llévese eso." (no no my girl, take that away)

Standing up, you took her hand and placed the money in her palm.

"Yo no lo necesito Catita" (I don't need it Catita) With a kiss to the top of her head, you swiftly got out of there, her sigh reaching your ears as you walked back to the Embassy.

You felt much lighter, the pain in your chest gone and your muscles relaxed. You entered the building and walked down the stairs to the basement, heading straight to your desk. Javi was sitting at his, filling what you guessed was the visa request for Helena. You didn't give it importance, sitting down at your chair and stripping off your jacket. The office was getting hot again, so you tied your hair up in a ponytail and started working as if nothing had happened.

Steve gives you a funny look from his seat between your desks. He won't have his own for at least a week, so either you let him use part of yours or Javier will.

You pray he's an organized person and wave at him.

"Come on Miami, get over here"

He sits straight and gives you a visual similar to a puppy being called, then stands up to pull his chair to sit across you. His desk will probably be on the opposite wall of yours anyway, may as well get used to his face.

"Do you need help with anything?"

His words sound like heaven in your ears, and you're sure your eyes even sparkle a little bit. Finally, someone is going to help you.

"Could you help me fill these formats, please? I'm sure you know how to"

He laughs a little and takes the bunch of documents you're handing him, nodding. He never liked doing paperwork either but didn't hate it as much as Peña seemed to do. He can't help but think that leaving you with everything is too much of a dick move and decides to help you as much as he can from now on.

Both of you start to work without another word, the air feeling a little tense now that Steve feels like less of a stranger at the office. He can't do much about the rigidness between the two of you, though.

Javier raises his head from the request he's filling out and a pang on his chest makes itself present once he gets a good look at the scene in front of him.

In all the time he's known you, he has never seen you so relaxed while working. Your cheeks are flushed from the heat that's enveloping the entire place, strands of hair falling to your face as you're bent over whatever document you're working on. Your shoulders are less tense than he's seen in weeks, and he can even see a faint smile forming at your lips. Steve is reading through the papers you gave him, his posture loose and easy.

With new people, you're usually slow to warm up to, you hate anyone who isn't him getting close at your workplace, and even then you're hesitant. Despite this, you seem to be getting used to Murphy pretty quickly, and the thought creates a knot right at the center of his stomach.

He shakes the thought out of his head and keeps working on the visa request, but he can't shake the warm, burning feeling that has spread all over his body.

The day goes quickly, with Murphy helping you with everything you ask for and things getting easier between you two. With every laugh and joke the two of you exchange, Javier feels his body get hotter and hotter, but refuses to acknowledge it.

Soon it's time to leave and for the first time in weeks, you don't need to stay late.

"Vamonos compañera" (let's go partner) Javier says, but his words come out hard and tense.

It only gets worse when you shake your head as you stand up.

"Hoy no Javier, tomaré el colectivo" (not today Javier, I'm taking the bus)

He grits his teeth and fists his hands at his sides but otherwise nods. He takes his jacket off the rack and rounds his desk, waiting for you and Steve to walk in front of him.

As the three of you get out of the building,the sun has barely set and it's a good change from the pitch black night you had gotten used to. You bid each other goodbye and he silently watches how you walk alongside Murphy through the alley with a clenching heart and a hot face, jumping into his Jeep and closing the door with much more force than necessary.

"pinche gringo" (fucking gringo) he mutters as he drives away.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #reader insert #pedro pascal fanfiction #my writing #tabaco y brea

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Four

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations

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My breath hitches in my throat as Nikki's tongue runs up my sweat cloaked spine as he slowly thrusts in and out of me, after giving me a couple of minutes to adjust to him, the sensation causing my thighs shake and my toes to curl, my bottom lip being pulled in by my teeth.

My knuckles ball the sheets up as I bury my face into the covers to keep from waking Karen up as he pushes himself into me to the hilt, causing my eyes to roll back in my head as I'm pretty sure I'm now soaking our bed, arching my back as he holds at my hips and runs his hands softly over my skin before giving a harsh slap to my ass, causing me to tighten around him and he let's out a breathy groan.

His fingers move to reach between my legs to massage at my clit, only adding to the nearly paralyzing sensation.

I gather myself and get my face from the mattress, looking at him over my shoulder, grinning.

"I think you can go faster than that." I gasp out through pleasure, my expression taunting him a little bit, and he looks at me like I just made a mistake.

Soon enough I'm practically clawing at the sheets, my tongue bleeding from having to bite into it to keep from screaming out as Nikki delivers stroke after stroke into me.

I can't even say anything other than moan and nearly shriek when he purposely pushes himself into me as far as my body will let him, only sending tremors down my legs to my toes.

He pulls put of me briefly before roughly turning me over, grinning at me before pushing himself back in.

"Nikki--I--" I breathe out, my back arching, my chest heaving with deep, desperate breaths. "--I c-can't..." tears are forming in my eyes, and I'm about to tell him to just get off of me so we can shower and just have our usual sex instead because I actually feel like my body can't take much more stimulation.

But he's not having it.

Instead, like always, he's taking advantage of it.

"No, no, no, you're not getting out of it that easy." He tells me, slowing down some and I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, clawing at his hand holding at my thigh.

His fingers go back to my clit, and he looks me in the eye, that smug smirk on his face because he knows he's trying to fucking kill me.

Suddenly, two of his fingers push into my already soaked pussy that's swollen from receiving two rounds of rough attention from Nikki's prick already, as the thumb of his other hand rolls over my clit that's been overly sensitized from nearly thirty minutes if him going down on me, and he continues his tortuous thrusting into me, only picking up his pace again and his fingers and thumb are in sync with his cock completely.

"Nikki!" I don't care if Karen hears me, or if I wake up the neighbors, I can't help but scream out as I probably look like a scene from the exorcist, my back arching to a point where it looks like it might break with tears streaming consistently from my eyes that are screwed shut.

The mind shattering build up to my orgasm starts to collect, my body feeling full and ready to explode.

He thinks it's the most entertaining thing, seeing his innocent church girl sobbing, writhing and screaming in ecstasy all at his mercy in the middle of sodomy.

I can't make the words "I'm about to come" leave my mouth before liquid is spilling over his fingers, streaming out of me, my whole body spasming as I struggle to breathe, my head spinning.

He pulls out of me, uttering "fuck" under his breath as threads of his cum paint my stomach before he falls beside me on the bed, the both of us catching our breath.

"Are you gonna live?" He asks me with a laugh, after a couple minutes of me trying to catch my breath and calm my body down.

"I remember why we only do that on special occasions." I look at him, my eyes probably red from crying uncontrollably.

He just grins, shaking his head a little, his black, messy hair nearly taking up his pillow completely.

"You know, Duff told me a while ago that you two worked a plan out to get that place bought and renovated to decent shape for me to use." I say softly, turning over to face him. "He bought it and you paid for it to be fixed."

"I figured you knew...you conveniently stopped going when renovations started." He licks his lips.

"You conveniently shot me and I could barely put weight on my leg for nearly two weeks." I add and he let's out a breath.

"I know I'm not worth a shit right now, Viv, baby, I get it." He turns over on his back to face the ceiling.

"I didn't say that."

"I'm trying." He adds.

"Are you?" I ask as softly as I can to keep from pissing him off, looking at him and he closes his eyes for a second before looking at me.

"When's the last time I hit a pipe, huh?"

"We have a refrigerator full of smack."

"You don't know what's in those bags." He scoffs.

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Nikki? I mean, really?"

He just rolls his jaw, avoiding my eyes on him.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you are doing everything you possibly can to be better?"

He just sits up.

"I could throw the fucking drugs out, Vivian, and still not be good enough."

"Nikki, you know I don't think you're not good enough for m--"

"--I didn't say anything about not being good enough to meet your standards."

"Who's standards then?"

He's about to say something, but catches himself.

"My own, I guess, I don't know." He says under his breath.

He could have gotten rid of the drugs, but that wouldn't have gotten rid of Vanity, and he knew that.

Honestly, he was growing tired of her quickly, and was trying to find a way to put an end to things without her getting mad and telling me because he was paranoid that's exactly what she would have done.

But he was also terrified to tell me he was sixx foot deep in the situation called "Vanity" and didn't know how to climb out because he was afraid I would leave him.

So he stayed caught between a wife and a mistress, hoping the latter would grow tired and give way so he could escape the growing pressure and paranoia creeping on him with each day.

We get a shower to clean up and I pull the comforter off the bed that's wet with cum and throw it in front of the washer before grabbing the blankets off the couch to cover up with.

It's 3:10am, and Nikki's dressed and pulling his cowboy boots on, causing me to look at him like he's crazy.

"You're leaving?" I ask him, weakly.

"I'll be back when you wake up." He assures me, crouching down to brush his fingers through my hair.

"Please be careful." I plead, my hand grasping at his. "Please."

He nods, smiling a little before reaching his hand under the bed, handing me a wrapped gift.

"One more Valentine's Day gift." He tells me and I sit up, taking it, pulling at the paper.

I open it, seeing soft, white leather and gold words that read "Holy Bible."

I look at him and he just smiles, giving a shrug.

"Figured I should since I burned your other one." He adds.

"I started that fight, Nikki. You finished it. I shouldn't have broken your awards to begin with."

"Vivian, you broke the frames that could be replaced. And were replaced. Those awards don't mean a fucking thing to me, anyway." He shakes his head. "This," he taps his finger on the bible. "Means the world to you. I shouldn't have done what I did, as comfortably as I did it, just to prove a point." He states.

"It's okay, Nikki." I reply, smiling at him.

"I'm gonna get better, alright?" He says suddenly and I meet his eyes. "I'm gonna get outta this and I'll stay out. And I won't be as mean or weird and you won't hate me so much." He laughs it out but it hurts me that he thinks I hate him.

"I could never hate you, Nikki." I say.

"I don't know, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." Again, he's saying it light heartedly but it's a mask.

"Nikki, you're my world." I say to him, and his smile fades. "You have been since 1981, even before I even knew you were. If something ever happened to you, they'd have to either take me out with you or keep me sedated in a mental institution. I wouldn't know what the hell I would do without you." I inform him. "I could never hate you."

It's obvious that he wasn't expecting me to say this.

He just clears his throat before standing back up, grabbing his bike keys.

"I'll be back later." He tells me, seeming like he's avoiding acknowledging what I just said to him.

He kisses me before heading to the bedroom door.

"Goodnight, baby." He says.

"Goodnight, Nikki." I reply as he walks out.

I wait for the sound of his bike leaving, before I open my new bible, seeing he's written my name in the "presented to" slot, and put his in the "presented by" space, and filled in the date.

That's not something I ever expected to see Nikki's name in.

I file through it, seeing the little ribbon attached as a bookmark is held between the back cover and the content itself.

Just as I flip there to put the ribbon in the pages themselves, I see Nikki had it there for a reason.

On the back cover, there's a passage of Nikki's handwriting that starts with "Vivian."

The phone's ringing before I can read it, and I put the book down and get up to answer, only to be met by Karen coming out to answer it.

"Hello?" She answers it for me, sleepiness encapsulating her tone.

Her eyes flicker to me, her face growing nearly pale, and I get a bad feeling settling in me.

"Yes, Ma'am, she's right here." She hands me the phone and I furrow my brows a little before exhaling.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sixx this is Analise with Los Angeles Medical Center. I'm calling because we have a patient in our intensive care unit, currently, who has you listed as their emergency contact." She informs me and I want to tell her to be more specific because I'm listed as several people's emergency contact currently. "Tansalyn Reilen."

Tansy's body, growing tired from her constant drug abuse, had started telling her it was about to give out.

I quickly make my way through the lot of the hospital, stepping into the emergency room to see Steven and Duff waiting in the waiting room.

"What the hell happened?!" I ask, stepping to them.

Duff goes to open his mouth but Steven cuts him off.

"I-I don't know what happened, it was just some blow, Viv." He says, panicked, and my eyes widen.

"Just some blow?!" I outburst.

"Viv--" Duff starts but I stop him.

"You can fuck off since you're the one that bailed her out of going to rehab in the first place!" I snap at Duff and he furrows his brows.

"Hey, lose it, Viv, I'm not Nikki and I'm not putting up with it." He tells me, alcohol on his breath.

"No, you certainly aren't Nikki no matter how badly you try to be." I hiss.

"If I wanted to be Nikki I'd start shooting junk and talking down to you." It's said in a slur and I ball my hands up in fists.

"Guys, hey!" Steven stops me from arguing. "Viv, seriously, just calm down." He pleads and I let out a heavy breath.

"Where is she at now?" I ask him, ignoring Duff before he slumps back down into a chair.

"They said they were gonna do a cardio thing with electricity to see how bad the damage is...I really don't know what happened, I had a line from the same bindle and nothing happened to me."

"God." I breathe out, rubbing my forehead. "Alright, I'm gonna go ask her to tell me when they get done with testing." I nod to the receptionist and he nods.

It takes two more hours until the woman is calling me up to the counter for a visitor's pass and telling me where to go.

Once I get to Tansy's room, she looks like absolute hell as a nurse helps to get her situated.

Her dead eyes look up to see me and she grins, tiredly.

"Hey, Viv." She tells me as I step closer to her bed.

"Hey, Tans." I reply, the nurse glancing up at me.

"He should be in soon with tox-screen results and he'll explain the results of the electrocardiogram." The nurse informs me.

"I got in trouble." Tansy whispers to me.

"Well, the doctor who delivered you from the womb probably doesn't want to you die for something that could have been prevented." I reply in the same tone.

"I gathered that from his scolding." She nods.

"Alright, call if you need anything. He should be here shortly." The nurse reminds us.

"Thank you." We both say simultaneously as she steps out.

When we're alone, Tansy sits up and starts untaping her aspirin-IV drip, about to pull the needle from her hand.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I ask her.

"Viv, I can't stay here. I'm gonna start jonesing in a few hours and I doubt the nurses will sneak me anything."

"Tansy, you just had a heart attack, are you crazy?" I stop her from taking the IV needle from herself.

"Viv, I need to get outta here."

"Tansy, I swear to God, you are turning more and more into Nikki and it scares me. You're lucky you didn't die. Your heart is damaged and trying to recover. If you go load up on blow or smack, you will not live."

She looks desperate, her blue eyes watering, her cracked lips quivering.

The door opens in a moment and her doctor comes in, clearing his throat.

"You must be Vivian." He greets me and I nod.

"Alright, the main culprit of this is cocaine which can cause the coronary artery to spasm, which temporarily constricts the blood flow to the heart and the lack of oxygen causes sections of the heart to suffocate and die, which triggers a heart attack." He tells us. "Tansalyn, you will be able to recover, but at the rate you are going, I don't see you surviving another scare like this." He explains to us short and sweet, and I let out a breath. "Now, we're going to give you a temporary pace-maker to correct your bradycardia once we're out of the woods, but I will be keeping you for at least five days to make sure your body doesn't take a left turn out of nowhere." He adds.

"I can't stay here for five days. I have a photoshoot Thursday." She tells him and he looks at me.

"Tansy, your health is more important than your work."

"If I cancel they're gonna wanna know why and I can't let my mom know this happened. She'll kill me. And I can't hide a pacemaker from her."

Her doctor and I exchange looks.

I can't talk sense into her. I know who can, though.

"I'll be right back." I tell them, stepping out of the room to go to the waiting room to use the payphone, dialing the number.

"Hello?" Axl's tired voice says on the other end.

Tansy's always listened to Axl more than anybody else. I think it's because he kind of scared her back then, but she respected him because he really did have a good head on his shoulders...he just didn't know how to properly handle his feelings at times.

By the time Axl takes my place in the room with Tansy, I go back to the waiting room, Duff and Steven both asleep.

I wake them up and they startle slightly, rubbing their faces.

"Axl's gonna stay here with her, he told us to go home." I tell them.

"Axl's here?" Steven yawns.

"Yeah. Do you guys need a ride? I brought the Jeep so there's room for you two." I offer.

"Nah, I'm done the block at a chick's house." Steven tells me, and I glance at Duff.

"I'll walk." He mumbles.

"Duff--"

"Nah, really, Viv. Don't worry about it, I got it." He assures me as Steven puts his arm around me, kissing my cheek.

"I love you. I'll see you later." He tells me.

"I love you, too, Stevie." I reply.

"Bye, man." He says to Duff and Duff stands up, towering over him.

"Later, Stevie." He tells him, stretching and yawning.

Steven gives us a wave before leaving and I walk with Duff as he follows behind him, but goes a different direction once we get outside.

"Duff, really, I can take you to the apartment."

"It's fine, Viv."

"Duff, I'm sorry for earlier, okay? I shouldn't have said that."

"Rehab wouldn't have helped her any if she was only going to make people happy, Vivian."

"I know."

"So it's not my fucki--it's not my fault she's in this mess." He tries to keep himself from cussing at me.

"I know."

"And I'm not trying to be Nikki so I don't even know where that came from. I don't want to be him. I'm perfectly happy being Duff McKagan."

"I know." I grab at his wrist before we can pass the Jeep, stopping him and he let's out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry for saying all of that. I was just angry and was taking it out on you and I shouldn't do that."

"No, you shouldn't." He states, looking down at me.

Neither of us says anything for a moment, just looking at each other.

I notice his buzzed eyes glancing down at my lips and I make a little more distance between us, letting go of his wrist.

"I'm gonna go home." I mumble, tucking a strand of red hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, you should." He agrees, licking his lips.

Neither of us bother to move, and he looks like he wants to tell me something.

"Okay, goodnight, Duff." I go to step by him to get to my car but he grasps at my arm gently, turning to face me, tugging me closer to him.

"Viv." He says, and my heart pounds in my chest, his eyes burning into mine.

"Yeah?" I ask, trying to get some space between us again and he acts like he's about to say something but stops.

"Goodnight." He states.

"Goodnight, and thank you for bringing Tansy." I give him a small smile before he's letting me go so I can get in my car and go home.

The sun's coming up by the time I get home, and when I get in the house and get to our bedroom, Nikki's laying down, halfway in the closet, half out, and Vanity's in the bed, wearing one of my Mötley Crüe shirts, and my new bible is nowhere to be seen.

Nikki had gotten home and hidden my bible to keep Vanity from finding the letter in the back of it, and after my lack of reaction to the letter, and finding out I had to go to Tansy before even getting to read it, he decided it would be best if I never read it. Obviously, I didn't know this, I just thought either he or Vanity had lost it...

It wasn't until Mötley Crüe was in Japan for the "Girls" tour that I found it.

Vivian,

I don't know if it's offensive to write in one of these, but my place in hell is already solidified so I might as well piss God off some more. Sorry, I know you don't like when I say I'm going to hell even though we both know it's true. The one problem I have with where I'm fated to spend eternity, is that I know you won't be there. I realized this exactly one year ago. I came pretty close to being over with and I would be burning currently (or just laying in the fucking ground, or flying around as a reincarnated bird, whatever the hell happens to us when we go) had I not made it through. I know I'm scaring you with how much I do, Viv. I hear you talking to God about it when you pray. You're afraid I'm not going to wake up one day. I'm afraid, too. I know, right, Nikki Sixx is scared of something, who would've thought? I'm afraid I'm going to take my last breath without telling you how much I love you. I knew I loved you that night you snuck me into your window and asked me to help you bullshit that damn thesis paper for your final. That was six years ago, almost, and I wish I would have been telling you that I love you all along, maybe it would have changed the path of certain things that have happened. I'm sorry for what I've done, what I'm doing, and what I will do. It's my cross to carry. It's not your fault, it never has been, it never will be. I hope you can forgive me if I'm not here this time next year...if I don't get any better, I'll be in a coffin before our tour ends. Jeez, this sounds like a suicide note. I promise that's not why I'm writing this. I hope I'm around as long as you are. I hope we're together in the next life, whether it's as two birds that mate for life, pecking at each other's eyes, or our spirits just find one another. If God is real, all I'll need is for him to let me know you've made it up there and that you'll be okay, and I'll go to Hell and take the brimstone and fire for all the damage I've done. Just don't forget me, whatever happens. I won't ever forget you. I love you, Vivian. I won't ever forget you. I love you.

‐-Nikki

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #gateway drug

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fullyellowsun · 4 years ago

Text

Subtle | 7

Choreography:

I do not own the picture, credit to the owner. AHHHH, both Baekhyun's will kill me!!!!! The duality of Byun Baekhyun...

This is my first series so please cut me some slack but also I welcome constructive criticisms! This is in Korean so for those of you who can read Korean and English, go ahead! I will post a full English version link to the Wattpad story in the masterlist!

Pairing: baekhyun x reader

Genre: kpop group collaboration!AU

Word Count: 1653 words

Description: After a long day of dancing, the others start to question the title of Baekhyun and Dayeon's relationship...

Disclaimer: I have no idea how any of this works. I’m just going off of the little info I DO know so please bear with me as I try to fill the chapters with what I think (or what I just make up) on how to make an album and the other kpop things.

Masterlist

"Please be with me~~~ this Christ-mas."

"1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and... oh, 다연아 잘하네!" Choreographer hyung says. He was right. Although Dayeon wasn't the main dancer, she still danced like a queen. (A/N Periodt😂) Her body moved gracefully and her vibe matched perfectly with the dance moves with a sexy and cute vibe.

"감사함니다 선배님." She says as she continues to move with grace. She was always so clumsy and innocent in real life but the stage really brought her into a different life. She didn't even realize that everyone stopped to watch her until she finished and everyone clapped for her.

"How come nobody claps like that for me when I dance?" Yoona asks.

"It's because she's actually good! She can sing, she can dance, what can she not do?" Kai said. He obviously still likes Dayeon but I feel kind of bad for Yoona since everyone can tell she likes Kai. She always wants his attention but he ignores her and has both eyes on Dayeon.

"I can't rap..." Dayeon says out of breath.

"Come on 다연아, we all know you can. I mean when Sunny was sick in that performance and you had to do her rap, everyone, including 리수만 선생님, said you were amazing." Suah says.

"맞아... you could be the main rapper if you really put your mind to it." Sunny says.

"See? What can she not do?" Kai says still clapping for her. I felt kind of mad when he clapped for her and she blushed. Does Dayeon like Kai? 아니야... 설마... no it's fine if she likes him... but it's not. I think I might like Dayeon. I mentally slap myself. 정신차려! We are in a fake 'marriage' thing with a contract, you got this far, you can't make it awkward now. Just push it down. Even if I wanted to date her, she wouldn't possibly like me back. Her perfection is better for someone perfect or someone who actually needs the love.

"현아? What are you thinking about?" I get waken up by Dayeon's nickname for me.

"Huh? What?" I say.

"What were you thinking so deeply about? We're about to practice one more time." I get up and get in my position. The dance was made so that we dance in our 'couples' but also in our own groups. Kai, Sehun, and Yoona did well. After practicing for a while, I want to go home but I can't take off my pants so just lay on the floor in the way of everyone. Dayeon joins me. "I'm tireddd..." she groans.

"나도!" I say loudly.

"What were you thinking about so deeply before?" She says.

"Huh? Oh... um." I can't tell her. It would be awkward, she won't even reciprocate the feelings. So I made something up.

"Umm... new... laundry detergent! (A/N I'm watching True Beauty and so if you know the reference, yay! If not, go watch it, it's good.)"

"Huh? Why do you need to think so deeply about laundry detergent?" She says slightly tilting her head. She does that when she's confused and it's genuinely the cutest thing ever.

"Uhh well... my nose is sensitive so I was wondering which scent I should get."

"Just choose your favorite one. Why is it so hard? Wait, but our dorm doesn't even have a washing machine." Oops. I forgot. The managers forgot to get a dorm with washing machines so we dry clean everything or go to a laundromat.

"Oh, did I say laundry detergent? I meant cologne." I scratch the back of my head and laugh nervously.

"Oh, makes sense." She says and doesn't pay attention to me anymore. "CAN WE GO HOME PLEASSSEEEE." She yells loudly still on the floor.

"YESSSSS.... PLLLLEEEAAASSSEEEEEEEE." The members pay no attention to our pleas and continue to practice.

"You know, people are not always as perfect as you. We actually need to practice." Suah says.

"We do too but isn't this a bit much? I mean it's already 12! Let's go home and sleeeeppppp..." She says and rolls ariund in exasperation. Because the others wouldn't listen to us, I decided, they can do what the want but I'm sleeping.

"다연아, 나랑 집에 같이 갈래?" I turn to Dayeon and ask.

"Yes please. Everyone, 우리는 먼저 갈게." Dayeon stands up and announces.

"You two in the dorm by yourselves? Just because we aren't there doesn't mean you could do whatever you want, keep it PG please, I do NOT want to walk into something gross." Sehun says.

"야! Worry about yourself! Bye!" We leave and jam out to music in the car on our way to the dorm. We get home and I immediately shower. Dayeon started making dinner and because she was like the only one who cooks, she knew where everything was and that kitchen was like a kitchen in her own house. I come out of the shower and Dayeon was still cooking. "Shouldn't you shower?"

"Oh yeah, Hyun-ah, can you take over?" She hands me the apron she was wearing and a spatula. She was frying kimchi and tofu. "I'm gonna shower so just make sure it doesn't burn."

"Okay, I got it, go shower."

"Thanks." She goes inside and I hear the water running. I started thinking about the nickname Dayeon gave me... Hyun-ah. It sounds like a girl's name but I don't care... it's a special name that no one else has- *beep beep* *beep beep* is that the fire alarm? "Hyun-ah... is that the fire alarm?" I hear Dayeon shout from the shower. I had one job... and I failed. ONE JOB! I frantically open the windows and turn off the heat. Dayeon rushes out the room with her clothes inside out and backwards and her hair dripping wet. "Ahh, you burned it. Didn't I tell you not to do that? Are you still thinking about your cologne? If it's that hard, let's just get one now." She throws away the tofu from the pan, washes it quickly and grabs her keys to go to the mall.

"Wait, isn't it closed? And maybe change and dry your hair at least?"

"Oh... yeah, online shopping it is." She grabs her laptop and gives it to me. "Choose something, look for something you like. I'm gonna REmake the food you burned."

"Sorry... I got distracted."

"With what?!" Umm... I can't say her nickname for me... what do I say?

"Uhhh, my cologne scent?" She shakes her head and chuckles.

"You are so weird." She puts on her apron and starts frying again. She finishes and leaves the food on the table to join me. "Did you find one yet? What? Why are you still on the Google page? Were you not looking at them?"

"It's uhh... it's too hard to choose scents from a screen."

"At least look!" She leans over me to look for a website. She just searched in "cologne scents that men like". I laugh. She looked at articles and asked me about each scent on the list.

"Okay, I'll buy it myself, you don't need to choose one for me!" She turns to me. Her face was really close to me face.

"I said PG!" Sehun says. She turns around.

"PG? Why is this not PG? I was helping him choose a cologne scent."

"Were you guys not like, making out?"

"No, what makes you think that?"

"I don't know, it just looked like it."

"Okay? I make fried kimchi and tofu. It's on the dining room table so if you're hungry, you can eat it."

"Oh, yay, thanks 언니!" Suah runs over to the table. Dayeon turns to me.

"If you don't want my help, sure, do it yourself but later." She walks away to the table to join the others. What just happened?! I join them too. I sit next to Chanyeol.

"Are you sure you guys aren't a thing or something?" He whispers to me.

"No! We're just close."

"This fast? You have known each other for like 2 weeks and you're already this close?"

"Isn't it the same with you and Sunny?"

"Yeah but we're not THAT close."

"What do you mean?"

"You guys watched a movie on your own, you go home together by yourselves, you have matching clothes and you hug each other in your sleep." Chanyeol lists off.

"Well that's because I didn't want to watch horror and we were tired so we went home. Our matching clothes is because it's cute or by accident and you already know that I hug my pillow in my sleep, it's just convenient that she's there in the pillow's place." I said almost screaming. I realized that I was screaming and everyone was staring at me. Chanyeol laughs at me.

"What are you talking about?" Suho asks.

"Uhhh... nothin-" I start.

"Why he's so close to Dayeon." Chanyeol says trying not to laugh. I give him a death glare.

"Wait I'm confused, how close are we?" Dayeon asks.

"Too close to be just friends." Chanyeol says.

"Why are we too close to be friends?"

"Well, you watched your own movie instead of watching with us." Sehun chimes in.

"You went home by yourselves together." Chen says.

"We were tired okay?!" Baekhyun says.

"You hug each other in your sleep!" Sehun says. Dayeon puts her fingers to her lips and mouths 'that was a secret'.

"You do?!" Xiumin asks.

"Maybe..." Dayeon says sheepishly.

"What is happening? Do we have another couple?" Suho asks.

"No! It's just because we're close. Is that not allowed?" Dayeon asks.

"Well no, it's not NOT allowed but you know, you guys are a little too close to the point where people would assume those actions as things couples would do." Suah says.

Masterlist

#exo #exo baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun fanfic #exo imagine #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction

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mirainawen · 4 years ago

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Some headcanons for The Long Road that absolutely nobody asked for

Who’s the messiest one:

Everyone has their places that they are the messiest one in.

dean: when he cooks, he does not clean up the kitchen afterward. he reasons that cleanup is sam's detail, because that splits the work 50-50. most of the time, sam is okay with this because he doesn't particularly enjoy cooking and is tired of takeout. he'll bitch dean out in three circumstances: 1, he hasn't been there (fair), 2, he wanted to eat out (less fair), 3, DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO WRECK THE WHOLE KITCHEN TO BAKE A FRICKIN PIE (least fair).

when it comes to the state of his room, though, dean falls right between sam and adam. it's his space, so he reasons everyone can mind their own business. sometimes he is really on top of it; other stretches of time, he'll let things pile up / get out of place before he'll do something about it.

you so much as leave a to-go cup in Baby, though, and God help you.

sam: between the three of them, sam tends to be the most orderly and tidy. BUT, leave that man alone to his own devices in the library? he's probably fallen asleep atop an entire table of "organized chaos" of open books, pages of notes, a new (unimplemented) filing system, a dozen bookmarked tomes, and a couple dozen pens lost amid the chaos. sam in research mode + cross-referencing & digitizing & organizing the men of letters' archives into a streamlined and interconnected, coherent system is...a lot. just like A Lot. and it Shows. (and sam's loving every minute of it. utterly geeking out in his own head.)

adam: is a disaster child. he'll let shit pile up until he has to deal with it, or is otherwise bitched at enough by (usually) sam. he doesn't have a lot of stuff, so it can't reach actual problem levels in the bunker. but he's totally the kind to be like, "what the hell? how long has this been here? hey, guys, when did we eat at burger king? oh god, we should definitely toss that at the next gas station. what? no i'm not going searching for a trash can right now" about his car.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA:

it is, get this, sam. i know, i know. hear me out. when given the option, adam can and will be affectionate within reason. he's the most uptight and gunshy about it at first, when he just gets out of the cage; tends to withdraw from people getting too close, always on edge; as a survivor of the most Traumatic Thing in the Universe, that is more than fair and expected.

once he's had time to find his footing with sam & dean, however, he'll greet them with a bro-hug, when appropriate, a slap on the back, a nudge of the elbow, lowkey affection like that.

dean came back from purgatory more affectionate than he'd ever been before. much more readily will not only greet with a hug, but say goodbye (even in 'casual' partings) with a hug.

that leaves sam, who used to be considered more mushy than dean by these terms. dean's lowkey affection he's used to. adam's? nah. no. especially in the first 5 years, for the amount of time that adam does it (before shit gets Real Bad). after adam gets out of the institution, he gravitates more towards sam naturally, even when pissed, and sam's kinda lowkey why is he in my personal space??? weird. because it doesn't innately fit the same kind of way it does with dean. post-reintegration, he's more affectionate after they've found their footing again. he tries to make up for the Bad Years with more slaps on the shoulder kind of affection. boy's trying.

Who’s the funniest drunk:

sam is a disaster drunk. he's the biggest lightweight of the three of them, which is funny because he's also the biggest, just like the biggest in general. dean becomes so much fun in unexpectedly different kinds of ways. like, he can be talked into karaoke. or doing some stupid shit he's gonna regret in the morning because odds are it's not gonna end well.

but adam is straight up hilarious. that sharp wit comes out, and all his inhibitions (and image) are gone so he just straight up cracks the worst jokes ever and gets away with it. they land. somehow they land. maybe because sam & dean are also drunk. maybe because he is just that funny. maybe it's that he has a tendency to get blackout-wasted and do stupid shit that makes no sense whatsoever, like shower with his f*ckin socks on and dean is never gonna let that shit die.

Who texts the most:

adam or dean. during large periods of time in the first 5 years, adam will leave dean on read and dean texts because read receipts means he knows when adam is checking his messages and therefore he knows adam is at least alive, if not entirely alright. by that view, dean texts the most.

but for random shit, that would be adam. he'll text dean something like

with either no caption, or something like: this reminds me you need to hit the gym, or looks like you have competition and doesn't give further context. dean doesn't mind because at least it means the kid's not dying in a basement somewhere.

he'll kick his ass for the fat comment later

Who reads the most:

it goes in this order:

sam "i read this entire book in one sitting cause i had the time, and now i am awake at 1am because i can't decide if i want to start another one since i have down time" winchester

adam "does it have cool illustrations? no? fine, at least tell me the lore on boobries is correct" milligan

dean "what job has the least amount of reading?" winchester

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music:

eff. ing. adam. even in his own car (where, hey, the rules are driver picks the music dean!) he's only allowed a certain amount of time for his "whiny teenage garbage music" (thanks dean) before he has to change it to something a little more tolerable (rock, at the very least). heaven help him if he hints at something country with dean around. dean will be like, sit your ass down it's time for REAL music 101 and put on Metallica for the 8th time.

Who’s better with kids:

adam, with dean a very, very close second! so close, they probably tie. adam, early on, isn't good with anyone because fresh-out-of-the-cage (even post-institution for a bit) makes him kind of a hairs-breadth triggered bomb when it comes to people of all ages. but adam a bit more balanced? a natural. he grew up around extended family, friends, wanted kids of his own someday.

sam, however, is the absolute worst. a pure disaster moron in this arena. when adam is de-aged? dean didn't think it was possible for sam to suck so much at something. (don't worry, the boy found his bearings. but oh man...the road to get there, paved with more potholes than road.) BUT when sam really tries? like if he lets himself relax and lowers his inhibitions, he can do pretty well. but he's mostly just Highly Uncomfortable around kids, and like, it Shows.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house:

dean. put that boy in the garage, under the hood of a car, great. can do it all. put that boy in front of a little home repair? renovation? by god he'll figure it out. and he won't put a hole in the wall shut up sammy. he takes pride in the upkeep of the bunker.

sam, however, is much more content to just be like ah man i wish we had a shelf here. or, oh right we need to remember to do xyz and then sit back and wait for it to Magically Take Care of Itself.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby:

hobby? what the hell is that? a homeless person?

Who cooks and who cleans up:

dean cooks, sam cleans. adam cooks, sam and dean will rock-paper-scissors for cleanup. or leave adam to do it. sam is never allowed to cook. he's a horrible cook. they'd literally rather eat out than let sam cook. sam, of course, is highly insulted, but also like...he knows dean & adam are better cooks. they just are. yes, fine, he'll wash the dishes again.

every now and then he gives it a shot. surprisingly he makes really good pancakes. he'll cook just to force one of the others to have to cleanup when he's tired of being on dish duty. dean & adam are not impressed when he tries to leverage sandwiches for dish duty.

sam, somewhat sloshed on a saturday night will be like, guys! guys! hey why don't i make us food and dean and adam are like, duuuuuude. ...wait, no. sam- and he's like, no, guys, i got this, and brings them microwave burritos. and THEN they're like hey! no! this does NOT mean we're doing dishes!

#the long road #supernatural #tlr headcanons #dean winchester #sam winchester #adam milligan #ioannemos #i'm tagging you in this even though you did not ask for it

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starrysebastians · 5 years ago

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painkillers and something more [one shot]

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : lingering glances and subtle touches are fine, but all it takes is a little injury to turn whatever this is into something more

a/n : listen this one shot wasn't planned but i'm on antibiotics and painkillers right now and instead of letting myself die i wrote this . so basically hurt and comfort and fluff to end my suffering (mentions of injury)

word count : 1.8k

When the end credits of the movie he was watching ended and he didn't have the will to get up from his comfy position on the couch to grab the other remote and turn the TV off, so James Barnes is currently facing a beaming blue screen — has been for at least a whole hour. It makes a buzzing sound he has now gotten used to, because he kinda likes having a background noise to avoid facing the deep and abyssal silence being awake in the middle of the night always brings. Tonight wasn't particularly plagued with nightmares, but the previous ones, and months of recons and missions have messed up his sleeping schedule enough for him to finally take Sam's advice and watch the numerous movies he recommended him to catch-up on the 21st century culture.

His eyes are now focused on a book, one he found lying on a table, the bookmark next to it rather than in between the pages so he figured the person reading it was done. There's a shuffling coming from the hall that makes him perk up, the book closing on the finger he put between the pages.

Muffled voices, a groan, and it's getting closer.

"C'mon, let's get you on the couch. I'll get you your meds." Bucky identifies it as Sam's voice, although it is softer than it usually is when he's joking around, lighter than it is over the coms during a mission. It has the same he uses when he tries to comfort someone after innocent bystanders were a mission's collateral damages, or when Wanda has a nightmares. "Here."

The ceiling lamp flickers on, making the little reading lamp next to Bucky's couch useless. Even when he is wide awake, he usually likes staying in the dark when it's nighttime. It helps with schedules and not getting completely disoriented, seeing the sky go from purple and pink to dark blue splattered in white dots to soft orange and light blue. Artificial lightning all night long just messes with your mind.

Shifting in his seat so that he can turn his head and observe the hall leading to the living room — more like a living floor, by the way, he frowns upon you and Sam. Rather, Sam holding you by the waist, walking ever so slowly as if you were gonna collapse as soon as he let you go. Bucky stands up straighter, a million questions popping up in his head — were you on a mission? no, you had one that lasted longer than usual because Fury needed you and you returned two weeks ago, and all you did the past few days was help run recon, collect intel… nothing to get hurt over.

He and Sam share a look, and he's not quite sure what that expression on his face is.

"Here. Just lie down," Sam says with his soft voice again as you tumble on the couch, hands on the leather to steady you as you try and lay down as gently as possible. "I'll be right back." Another pointed look at Bucky, and this time he slowly rises from his seat, taking two hesitant steps.

It's not that you and him are not close — in fact, he would say you're one of the persons he likes the most here. You work with SHIELD, but also with them, it depends on the missions and he likes how you're free to work with any organisation you like. You're independent, and not often in the compound. He enjoys watching you work and fight because you're so skilled it's impressive for a normal, non-enhanced human being, but maybe it's just everything about you he deems worthy of being stared at all day long.

There has been different moments shared. Unwinding times in comfortable silence and missions aftermaths, bundled up in soft blankets in the living room or numbly sitting in the quinjet as it flew back towards the compound. Briefing sessions, some with too many things at stake to share a joke, others where you both shared smirks and twinkling looks. One where you accidentally bumped your leg against his, that time Steve was explaining how you were going to take down a weapon-dealing business, which is a pretty easy task for all of you, and you decided your leg was going to stay right here. You even made the wise decision of hooking your feet around his leg, the warmth emitting from your tangled legs making Bucky bite his lip in order to stop a smile from breaking out on his face. You didn't hide yours.

There are also times when you don't get to bump into each other for months. Exhausting months when you both are on missions, deep down undercover — especially you, because the winter soldier's face, albeit masks and tricks existing, is well-known, contrary to yours which has been well-protected by every intelligence agency you have served. During those months, sometimes you're scared he's going to forget about you and your fleeting glances ; he's scared you're too busy with work for him to ever cross your mind. And you never really talk, you both just flirt and smirk and wink and sometimes it feels like it has to evolve into something more, but it has always been enough.

But you're currently moaning from pain on the couch right next to him and his face hurts from frowning so hard.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Another two steps (strides) towards you, a hesitant hand hovering next to you, not knowing where to go to provide comfort without hurting you further. You turn your head toward the sound of his voice, painfully, and squint as if everything was blurry.

"Hi," you drawl out, a lazy smile on your face. "I missed you."

A flutter in the stomach, a soft and content sigh.

"I missed you too. What happened? I thought you didn't have any mission coming up?"

"I didn't," you say and he frowns. "Remember that undercover mission where I got shot last month?" He nods and you wince before continuing. His gaze falls on your hip, because he remembers that gunshot, a bit too well. "Well, maybe I didn't really follow the doctor's orders. I mean, I did. I just got back to work too early. But it wasn't that deep. Like a flesh wound. But, anyway." Another wince. "Turns out it got a little infected. So I'm back on antibiotics and painkillers for a week."

It physically hurts him too, to see your glazed and glossy eyes, constant frown and lips turned downwards, but he still chuckles at your rambling, and the fact that you couldn't stand to stay on bed rest for more than two days. He crouches down next to you, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes because you've been trying to get rid off it for the past minute by blowing air on it, but it just doesn't work.

"Yeah well please try and listen, next time," Sam's voice is back, and you just know he rolled his eyes. The sound of boxes and a glass clinking against the table can be heard, and he lays a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Here's the doctor's prescription. Antibiotics, painkillers, water. She probably won't sleep tonight." He crouches down too, a hand resting on her forearm. "I'm gonna let Tin Man here keep you company, alright? If I don't wake up for training tomorrow, Steve is gonna have my head."

You hum distractedly as you watch Bucky fumble with the prescription and meticulously prepare your pills, tongue stuck out as his blue eyes are squinted. Cleaning out his weapons probably doesn't require as much attention and care, and you can't help but laugh at his expression. A super-soldier, being able to aim at an enemy's head without even sparing him a glance, but putting so much effort into getting your meds right, and it makes your chest swell with something you can't quite place, but it's warm, definitely warm. Burning. He perks up at the sound of your laugh, only to send you a glare, and then a few seconds later he proudly hands you the right amount of pills.

"Thank you," you say with a smile, a hand lingering a bit too long on his skin. He helps you get propped up against the cosy and snug cushions and while you take your meds, he's busy finding you a soft and fluffy blanket, resting it on top of you.

"Here." He's sitting next to you again, leaning more and more every time you let a groan escape your lips.

"Would you mind knocking me off so I can sleep?"

An amused chuckle but a fond movement of the head, from left to right.

"You weren't sleeping?" You talk again.

He shakes his head again. "Nah. I was catching up on Sam's movie recommendation list."

"Can you put something on?"

It takes you ten minutes to decide on Blade Runner, and in fear of hurting you, he slides down against the couch again, his head thrown back a little and you can see his face if you look down, the colors displayed on the TV screen dancing across his soft and tired features. He's just so pretty.

You extend your left arm, and it is dangling from the couch, fingers softly brushing Bucky's shoulders. Scratching his neck, his ear. Running through his shiny locks, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. He cranes his neck backwards to get a better look at you, and he notices your smile and the glinting in your eyes from upside down. You hum as his flesh hand grab yours, thumb stroking your skin. He lets it rest on his shoulder again, putting his attention back to the movie playing in front of him.

It takes another twenty minutes of gentle fingers running on his skin, insistent staring at his neck, back muscles, hair and shoulders, for you to talk again, painkillers having kicked in.

"Please come and lie with me. You're not gonna hurt me," your voice can't compete with the fight scene on screen, but you're leaning right next to his ear, and if he doesn't move for a second, he certainly heard you. "Hold me?"

This is the something more you have both been yearning for. There wasn't any moment that was right before, but this one is.

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to find a position that doesn't hurt your hip, lots of groans and painful winces. But then you're lying between his legs, back resting against his toned abdomen, head nestled in the crook of his neck with strands probably tickling his skin but he doesn't say anything because he likes the smell of your shampoo too, and he's warmer than the blanket.

That something more, the next step in a dynamic based on small smiles across the quinjet and subtly tangled legs, is going to have to wait until you don't have to ingest the highest dose of painkillers humanly possible to move without wincing, but it is there. Hanging in the air, waiting to be seized. In the way Bucky holds you, runs the back of his flesh hand up and down your arm, and softly kisses your neck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel one shot #hurt/comfort one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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irepookie · 6 years ago

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Infinity Chapter 5: IT CAN'T BE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Summary: QUEEN AU where Roger Taylor (aka Rowan Queen) is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swear words here and there

Disclaimer: I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, but Piper, Gina and Callie are mine.

Chapter 5: Basically Row's and Piper's first day on their own, narrative shifting from normal to Row's inner train of thought.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Throughout his life, Row would regularly look back with infinite fondness and amusement at the first day he spent on his own with his daughter.

But today, as both him and his week old infant cried in each other's ears, he didn't think either of them would make it through another 24 hours, let alone long enough to look back and laugh at it.

He thought he wouldn't get to the end of the parenting book he was with at the moment with his sanity intact.

He had read many books that contradicted each other. And this one was no exception.

Some said to follow a feeding schedule.

Others to do so whenever she'd demanded it.

Some said that bathing was bad for the umbilical cord.

Some others recommend to rub it with alcohol to help it fall early.

And others said not to touch it. To simply leave it alone.

Then there was Callie and her usual phrase echoing on his head "The best thing is to follow your instincts".

But that didn't help a damn either cause his instinct was messed up.

He had also read somewhere that sharing bed was good at the beginning. That it helped preventing SIDS.

Then on the next book, that sharing room was fine at first, but that bed was a risk factor in SIDS.

But hold on.

What the hell was SIDS?

They mentioned it everywhere. He went through all the pages until he found it, only to be left breathless when finding out what what it stood for:

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Whose exact cause was still unknown , and although there were some preventive stuff to do -on which, by the way, all the bloody books differed- there was nothing 100% safe.

So, they meant his little Piper could just fucking die for no goddamn reason, and he wouldn't be able to do nothing about it? What the fuck! It wasn't fair!

So he found himself on the phone, dialing the number he always recurred to in times of trouble.

"I think I broke her, mom" he said as soon as he heard her pick up.

"You can't break a person, Row"

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Don't be overdramatic. You didn't expect it to be easy, did ya? Or you thought she was gonna be like a doll, huh? Like those that have a switch for when you get tired of playing house?"

"No but I didn't think... I mean she was much quieter in the hospital."

"Well, darling, she must have sensed the move or something."

"You mean she doesn't like my place?"

"No, you silly. Although there's room for improvement in the style... But that's not the point. She just needs time to get used to it. Also I bet she can sense your unease."

"Uh?"

"Babies have this sixth sense when it comes to the emotions of those around them. Specially mother's... Or well, in this case, you. So if she senses you're frustrated, she'll get more distressed."

"Oh." was all he could say.

"Where is she now?"

"She's right..." He looked down at the bundle he had been holding and rocking only to realize it was a bunch of dirty clothes.

Where was she? Had he lost his daughter after 5 hours? Fuck! Fucking idiot

For a moment, he forgot where he had put her and a million terrifying thoughts flashed on his head.

She wasn't crying at the moment.

And that was good.

Right?

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was the worst thing.

Maybe one of the pillows on the sofa had fallen over her and suffocated her.

Or maybe he had mistaken her for a dirty bundle of clothes and put her in the laundry and...

"Rowan?"

"She's asleep on the bed." He suddenly remembered, peering at his bedroom to check he was right. He was. She was asleep, right in the middle of the mattress, exactly where he had placed her 10 minutes earlier.

"Then take this chance and sleep. You're good at sleeping."

It was definitely a good idea. So he hung up and tiptoed to the bedroom. He reached the bed and froze, trying to think of a way of climbing in without startling her awake.

Maybe the matress sinking at his weight woke her up. And if he got past that, perhaps if he dared to move or rolled in his sleep, he'd wake her up... Or worst; he had heard about the hundreds of kids that died overnight suffocated by their parents.

No. He decided he couldn't sleep with her.

So he got the bunch of dirty clothes and laid on the floor besides the bed, using the bundle as a pillow. He fell right off to sleep.

He woke up four hours later, and the room was still silent.

Shouldn't she need something? Shouldn't she have woken me up?

Once again, a feeling of fear invaded him as he jumped to his feet, and put a small mirror in front of her nose to make sure she was still breathing.

She was.

He sighed with relief and pecked her forehead before tiptoeing out.

He decided to make a sandwich or something, cause his stomach was roaring. Halfway through eating it, he ran his eyes through the parenting book he had left opened on the counter:

<<If your baby sleeps 4 straight hours or more wake them up for a feed; otherwise they could become dihydrated...>>

Fuck. She had been dozing for 4 hours and 20 minutes.

So he hurried into the bedroom, and leaned over the tiny bundle, a smile escaping his lips. She did know how to sleep after all. And she looked like an angel. So peaceful. Calm. It almost hurt him to disturb her. But he had to.

"Hey lil'raisin. C'mon, it's snack time" he said, gently lifting her up. "Hey, lovie. Wake up" he knew one thing he shouldn't do under any circumstances: shake her. Or make harsh movements. As that would lead to Major Danger #2:

Shaken Baby Syndrome. And that was under his control.

So he blew on her cheek instead and got her to open her eyes "Hey, Sleeping Gorgeous" he greeted, holding her up so they were face to face.

She looked up at him, directly into his eyes and something inside him melted.

Perhaps she had finally settled. Maybe now they were both fresh and rested she'd go easy on him. He could do this.

But then her face scrunched up and she whined.

"Oh no, no, no, baby, what is it? Don't cry. Don't cry. C'mon." Then he felt a warm liquid on his hand. "Okay, okay, message received. Let's do this"

He got a towel and unswaddled her, hoping he'd be able to remember how it was done afterwards and praying for it only being number one. It was, but he hadn't folded the nappy correctly and it had leaked all over the onesie, the blanket and... His duvet. Goddamn it.

He sighed. If he kept calm, she'd sense it. "Okay, me darl. Shh. Hold on a second. Where... Where've I left the nappies? Where?" He looked around the room but no sight of the pack. Shit. Last time he had changed her in the living room? So it had to be there. "Okay, hang on a minute sweets. I'll be right back" he ran out to get the pack, as the wailing got louder.

"Alright. Alright. I've got it, I've got it. I'm here. Hush" he managed to do it surprisingly fast and without new incidents. "Alright, alright. Almost done. C'mere." He lifted her up, checking the nappy was properly sealed, and went to the kitchen area where he had left the last clean onesie.

On his way, he found the pinky he had been looking for earlier as well "Hey look at this. Here it was." he washed it with water and put it in her open mouth. She began to suck instinctively, calming down.

Thank. Fucking. Goodness.

He sighed in relief.

He could do this.

He laid her down in the kitchen counter, so he could wash his hands, throw his wee stained t-shirt to the washer and unfold the onesie. She squirmed a little, but kept quiet.

"Alright, let's put this on you. Please don't squirm too much, darling. I don't want to hurt you." he pleaded.

"Okay, it's all done" he announced 10 minutes later, when he finally managed to button up all the miniscule buttons on the onesie. Bloody miniscule buttons made for small mothers' hands.

"What's next? Oh yes, bottle. Alright. Coming right up"

Just when he had put the bottle to warm up, she spit the pinky, and began fussing. "Hey, love , here" he put it back, but she spit again. "You ain't buying it, are you? You're hungry, and the pinky isn't fooling you." He chuckled "Clever girl. Alright, it's almost done so don't worry, okay? It's almost there" he took her back into his arms, and paced around until the microwave beeped.

He made a mental note to never again waking her up before the bottle was done.

Never again.

"Okay Princess. Here's your cocktail, made with love." he announced, as he carried her to the couch and sat down, propping her up and watching as she immediately sucked into the nipple, face relaxing instantly.

"Yea, you were hungry right? That's what happens when you sleep through lunch time. I hope you've learned your lesson, and that next time, you let me know alright?" He grinned, as a hand closed around his hair.

But she suddenly pulled away from the nipple and began to fuss again, halfway through the bottle "What? That's all? You're done? So much impatience for half a bottle? No, you've gotta keep going. C'mon" he offered the nipple, and she rejected it, hand pulling his hair

"Ow! Ow! Pips, no honey. Let go. C'mon. C'mon dear, let go." he set the bottle aside and used his free hand to untangle hers from his hair. She cried louder. "Hey, okay, okay, you can pull my hair off if you keep quiet. Uh? Deal?" He got more cries in response. His face fell.

"But you never did this in hospital. You didn't give Daddy hell like this. Why now? Why do you do this when I'm all alone? Am I such a bad dad? I mean I'm following every step. I'm doing my best. Please give me a break" he pleaded, changing her to an upright position.

He was doing nothing wrong, was he? He was doing everything just like he had been taught in hospital.

Well except maybe...

He had an idea and laid her on the couch "Alright, shhh. Let's try this one" he said, unbuttoning her onesie again, -making a mental note to ask Len if he could get him some bigger ones that wouldn't take forever to deal with- and bringing her back to his chest. She instinctively snuggled up, and quieted within seconds at the contact of both their skins.

And he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. "So you just wanted this? Well you should've said so earlier." He did both, out of amusement and relief.

Fuck he had cried more these past 7 hours than in the entire last decade. It was ridiculous, really. That someone so little could have such a big effect on him.

"So, where were we hon?" He offered the bottle and this time she did latch, body glued to his, and grey piercing eyes looking right through him, as if she was staring at his soul, as if she was reminding him why he was doing all this. And all the worries that had crowed him until that moment, just disappeared.

I can do this.

He didn't detach her from his chest for the rest of the day, as that seemed to keep her at peace and he didn't mind it. Rather enjoyed it.

So he changed his peed sheets and threw the nappy away, made himself some coffee and broke the mug in the process, as he struggled to do the whole thing with one hand. Then he had to pick it up and cut himself off with one of the shattered pieces. However, he didn't mind: it was worth it as long as she remained undisturbed.

"Are you two better?" Mom asked when she called in the evening.

"Yes, yes. We're... We're alright. Got the ultimate trick. I think we came to an understanding."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Where is she, by the way?"

"Right here." he pressed his lips on the top of her head, rested on his shoulder.

"Has she eaten properly?'

"Aye. Then spat some of it on me and... Yea. I think she's good." she had finished both bottles fairly quickly.

"And you? How are you eating?"

"Managed to eat half a sandwich. So not too bad."

"Finish it."

"I'm fine, mother."

"Row by neglecting yourself you're putting her in danger too. So eat properly and stay sane for the sake of you both, okay?"

He sighed. "Alright. I'll finish the stupid sandwich."

"And eat some food or whatever. Vitamins."

"Shit, this is like being 10 again."

They hung up and Row did as told, in spite of himself. Mom had a point.

So he finished the sandwich and grabbed an apple, eating it in bites, chewing it slowly and as silently as possible so he wouldn't disturb his daughter.

Damn it was cold. He'd have to turn the heat on, which he never did cause the bill afterwards was terrifying. But hell, both of them were half naked in February. And he had already spent a fortune on that prune sized person, might as well keep her alive and warm.

Then he laid down with her cuddled on his bare chest as she breathed in uneven, scary patterns, which Callie had told him were normal.

And soon, he found they were breathing in sync, every breath he took was three of hers. Or 5. Or none.

But it was normal, he reminded himself. Her breathing system has to develop still. She's fine.

He was exhausted, but completely wakeful at the same time, cause he was hypnotized by the sight of his little sleeping prune.

Like he would be countless nights in the future.

Because there was no better remedy for panic, no better way to put his thoughts in order and make him feel the strongest, happiest man on Earth than the sight of his daughter sleeping.

🥁🥁🥁🥁

As always, a big Heya to my only reader friend, @definitely-darcy. As you know I'm nervous about this chapter, but I enjoyed writing it a lot. So I hope you like It.

Xx ~Pookie

#queen band #roger taylor #queen fic #dad!roger taylor #roger taylor daughter #single dad! roger taylor #it won't be like this for long

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edourado · 7 years ago

Note

I'm imagining Karen at university, it's autumn and she's wearing cute sweaters with little wool skirts etc, she's persuaded to go to a pretty rough bar in town, and that's where she meets Him. He seems rough and ready, but when they start dating he's so kind & gentle with her, always encouraging her to finish assignments, walking her to lectures & meeting her from the library at night. I'm starting uni next year & this is a fantasy of mine, perhaps someone might like to write. Love your writing!

Hey Anon! First of all, let me say congrats and good luck with uni next year. Stay away from the 8 AM classes if you can and a regular sleep schedule is going to become a distant fantasy, but you should fight for it. It helps a lot. As does exercising and LOTS of water.

Second of all: you didn’t SAY Frank, but you described and I saw him. So I wrote him.

I hope you like this. Thank you for the prompt, I had fun with it.

A study in black and blue

Josie raises her eyebrows when the door opens and this life size doll walks in.

Usually, the pretty girls that walk through the door are showing either too much boob, too much stomach, or too much leg, maybe all three at once. Or they’re pretty but don’t bother with anything more elaborate than jeans and a coat over a simple t-shirt.

This one has her shiny blond hair up on a neat ponytail, enough makeup to just make you wonder if she was born like this or her cheeks are really that shade of pink, a sweater with a swan wearing a crown, the sleeves rolled up and a skirt that stops a few inches above her knees, her caramel ankle boots rising a little bit above her ankle. The bag slung on her shoulder matches it.

“Hi”, she says to Josie. “Do you know where I can find Foggy? Or Matt?”

“Pool table”, Josie informs, nodding towards the back of the crowded bar.

“Ok, thanks”, she says with a polite smile, and Josie watches as she walks towards two of her regulars, and all the heads that also watch her go.

An hour later, she is coming out of the ladies room, looking at her phone, when she bumps into that one customer that Josie just can’t decide if she likes or not. Frank Castle. He’s polite, never caused any trouble, but the way he always scans the bar, as if assessing the place, or the suspicious black car that drops him or picks him up sometimes makes her wonder.

The blond doll gasps loudly at the drink that spills on her sweater and Castle is quick to apologise. Her big blue eyes are closed, and Josie recognizes the look of someone trying not to explode.

“It’s fine”, she says, short. “I wasn’t looking.”

Frank says something else, but she assures him again that “it’s ok”, turns back around and walks back into the ladies room, no doubt to try and wash the beer out of her sweater.

Josie watches as Castle stands there for a second or two, then turns around and walk to his table, where his friends are clueless to what just happened.

It’s five minutes before blondie comes out, her sweater on her hands, the tank top she was wearing under it showing off a lot of skin.

Now, Josie thinks, shaking her head, she looks like she fits in here.

“Listen”, she suddenly hears, and raises her head. Castle is standing in front of blondie again. “I feel bad for that. Is there something I can do? Like pay for the dry cleaners or something?”

She watches him with her blue eyes for a second, and then shakes her head.

“It was nothing, I washed it out.”

Frank nods.

“Ok. You sure?”

“Yep. Don’t worry.”

“Still”, he says, and looks towards Josie. “Their next round is on me, Josie.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine”, he says, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll feel better.”

He pays for all his drinks, plus the round he bought for blondie and Nelson and Murdock. Blondie watches him with a careful look.

“Again, I’m sorry about your sweater.”

And then he is calling on the three friends that were with him. Josie is not sad to see them leave. Frank has never caused trouble, but his friends, she can tell, are just waiting for a chance.

The blond woman - Karen, Josie finds out later - looks at her, questioning, and Josie shrugs, putting the three beers on the counter for her. With a polite smile, Karen picks them up and walks back towards her friends. At least those two Josie knows are nice.

.:.

Matt is punching the sandbag, and feels the sweat running down his brow.

“Left, Murdock, come on”, Frank says, holding the bag for him. He drives his left fist three times into the leather, feeling it move slightly. “Left, left, right.”

Frank is a good guy to train with. He knows they go to the same school, but they don’t take any of the same classes. The met at the gym, and it’s practically the only place they talk, their schedules being so different.

After they’re both done and Matt is unfolding his cane to leave, Frank catches up with him, offering his arm to him as they both walk out.

“So”, he says after a small talk that Matt could just feel was leading somewhere specific. “You were at Josie’s last Friday, right?”

“Yeah. Why?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure ‘why’.

“There was this girl with you”. Bingo. “I spilled my drink on her.”

“Oh, that was you?” he asked, remembering Karen’s comments on how some stranger almost ruined her brand new Red Valentino sweater. “She was pissed.”

“She was, right? I knew it”, he says. “I offered to pay for dry cleaning, but she brushed me off.”

“Yeah, well. Karen is pretty independent. Not really the ‘letting guys do things for her’ type.”

Frank was silent for a second or two, and Matt could hear the cogs in his head. He had never seen Karen, of course, but just from the reactions she stirred everywhere she went, he could tell she was beautiful. Foggy told him only about a million times. Apparently, Frank was the last one affected by her looks.

He couldn’t really say he was friends with Frank. He was a pretty good guy, from what he could tell, even if he was very closed off. Matt couldn’t blame him, he was, too. The way he carried himself, though, it was almost like a soldier. If he wasn’t so young, Matt would say he was a veteran, or something along these lines.

When Karen shows up for class a week from then, accompanied by Frank, Matt resists the urge to frown.

“Murdock”, Frank greets. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, referring to their boxing practice.

“Yeah, sure thing”, he replies, trying to act like him walking Karen to class was not a bit… weird.

“See you around, ma’am”, and then he leaves.

“Hey”, Karen greets, taking his arm, pulling him towards the stairs so they can get to class. “That was the guy, the one who spilled beer on me at Josie’s.”

“Frank was the guy?”

“Yeah. He bumped into me at the coffee shop. Bought my coffee for me. He keeps apologising.”

Matt smiles, thinking that her tone betrays a little excitement.

“Is he cool? Because that night, he looked like he was ready to shoot everyone at the bar if someone rubbed him wrong."

Matt shrugs. “He’s nice enough. I only ever see him at the gym, he has a mean right hook.”

She hums and they walk into their classroom. He wants to ask more, measure the extent of Karen’s interest, but the professor arrives, loud and already spilling content and they’re rushing to open their books and get their notes and Foggy is throwing himself on the seat next to him, panting.

He’ll ask later.

.:.

“Zack, I swear to God”, Trish says, dumping her books on her desk at the school radio station. “if you ask me about Karen Page and Frank Castle again, I’m gonna scream.”

“But it’s just so juicy!” her friend says, holding the papers for the lunch broadcast to his chest. “Have you ever seen Frank Castle walking anyone to class? Have you ever seen him with a girl during the day at all?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know he existed until you started babbling about him."

That’s a lie. She knew he existed. Has seen him more than once running with his shirt off really early in the morning, while she walked to krav maga. He looked good, Frank.

“Are they dating?” Zack asks, in spite of her warnings.

“I told you, I don’t know.”

But she knows. Has seen Karen giggle about him, has heard about the near Red Valentino disaster, had asked her about him, curious herself.

“No, we just have coffee sometimes”, her friend had said, two weeks ago. Now, she had a lot of juicy details about how good of a kisser he was. But she was not about to tell that to anyone.

“Is she still writing that story for us?”

“Yes, it’s due next week.”

“Well, can I ask her when she comes over? Maybe we could start a new social column, or something-”

“Zack, we’re not gonna write gossip about students or staff. This is an University, not high school. Take that idea out of your mind.”

But Zack didn’t really have to ask Karen anything. When Frank started walking her to her classes, hanging out waiting for her classes to finish and walking with his arm around her shoulder, greeting and saying good bye with kisses, the whole school seemed to be watching.

Never have they ever imagined someone as nice and bright as Karen would be dating brooding, scary and mysterious Frank Castle. But there they were.

Honestly, everybody half expected her to end up dating Matt Murdock or Foggy Nelson. But there she was, making Frank show his face outside during the day more and more often.

“No Frank today?” Trish asked when she ran into her on the way to Women and Gender Studies.

“No, he has a free period. Plus”, she said, with a move of her shoulder and a conspiratorial smile, dropping her voice. “He’s pretty tired.”

Trish looked at her and Karen waited.

“Are you just coming from his place?”

She nodded, looking smug and happy.

“Ok. Detour. We need to talk.”

Laughing, Karen let herself be pulled towards their regular coffee shop, where they got lattes and she heard all about Frank’s perfect body and amazing skills.

“Ugh, you bitch”, she said when Karen told her that Frank had, actually, no roommate, and she didn’t really have to keep her voice down.

That night, after Trish finished her shift at the paper and they walked to meet Jessica and Claire for wine, movies and popcorn, they all rolled their eyes when Frank showed up at the library door with his car, asking if they wanted a ride. They climbed in and then watched as Karen kissed him long and slow when he dropped them at Trish’s not so humble abode.

Eventually, they got into the elevator without her, laughing when Karen knocked on the door ten minutes later, no trace of lipstick on her lips.

.:.

When he graduated, she braced herself for an eventual break up.

Considering potential jobs for him, a new apartment, maybe even more interesting people, and her ever present pessimism when it came to relationships, there was always that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this all could end very soon. She was still halfway through college, her graduation not coming anytime soon, and he was in the “real world”, now. “Real” women were bound to happen to him.

When, six months in, and he was asking her what time she was going to leave the library, so he could pick her up, asking her to come and check new apartments with him, still adjusting his schedule to hers, the voice started to quiet down.

He’s been living in his new apartment - the one he picked because she liked that it was near a park - for another six months, and he’s away for work for a week, when she opens one of his kitchen cabinets and finds a bag of the coffee she likes and he hates. The one from Starbucks, that he says is too weak and “too blended with unnecessary shit”, but she likes the smell of it and the taste of vanilla and the fact that when she drinks it with cream, it’s sweet and the taste lingers in her tongue. He bought it for her, even though it’s expensive and he hates it.

She’s missing him a lot, so she brews herself a cup, strips down to her underwear and sends him a picture of herself in her lingerie, lying in his bed, thanking him for her coffee.

He answers it three hours later, asking if she’s home (and she is, studying), asks for more pictures, tells her what to take off next and then she has phone sex for the first time.

The voice quiets down forever once he comes back, spends two hours making her see some stars on his ceiling, and then still manages to help her study, asking her questions from her index cards and, the next morning, wakes up at seven just to drive her to her 8 AM class, even if he didn’t have to.

Yes. Hush, now, voice.

.:.

Frank had known she was it for him for a while, now. Hadn’t said anything because it was, maybe, too soon, maybe she wasn’t ready, they were both very young, she looks the way she looks and is who she is, maybe she would realize that she’s very out of his league and want to dump him, something.

Still, he knew.

He was sure when, after Shield promoted him and he started going on the field more often, which meant he had to travel a lot more, she went to pick him up at the airport once with a pitbull. A rescue.

“Happy birthday”, she had said, and he had, honest to God, forgotten it was his birthday.

He didn’t plan to, but he asked her to move in that night, after dinner.

“My place is bigger”, he reasoned when she looked at him with those big blue eyes on the other side of the dinner table. “You’re here all the time, my neighbors like you better than they like me.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, and he got insecure. Maybe she wanted to keep her place, she was a very self sufficient woman, Karen, valued her independence a lot.

He nodded, trying to look casual, but failing. He could feel it in his face.

But she smiled, took a deep breath and nodded, biting the inside of her lip and Frank loved her. He fucking loved her and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

#kastle #kastle au #kastle ff #kastle fic #Frank and Karen #prompt #Hell's Kitchen Cronicles

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years ago

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty

Table of Content or Part Forty-Nine

Wattpad

Word count: 4.9K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Violence, drug abuse

A/N: so this is annoying, I know, but as I was writing this chapter, I may or may not have made a plot hole that I went back in the story and filled in so it wouldn't contradict with this chapter, I think most of you will know what it is, I'd tell you now but I don't wanna spoil the chapter. Anyway, sorry if that bugs you guys but I was writing and it just flowed out but I did go back so the chapter it was first brought up in matches what happens in this one so it's not confusing for future readers.

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Nikki, happy birthday to you!" We sing as Nikki's about to blow the candles out of his cake.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Steven interjects, holding a joint above one of the lit candles, lighting the end of it on fire. "Okay."

He takes a drag of his blunt as Nikki blows his candles out, Tommy patting his shoulders.

"A whole twenty-eight years and you're still kickin', man." Tommy tells him and he grins.

"Who'da thought." Nikki adds, laughing, taking a sip of his homemade margarita.

"Okay, who wants cake?" I ask them, getting up from Tansy's dining room table to go get a knife from the kitchen.

I come back in to see Nikki and Tommy cutting at random parts of the cake with their switch blades.

"Guys, c'mon." Sharise scolds them, lightly hitting their arms before plucking the cake and icing covered blades from their hands.

"Boo, mom." Nikki sarcastically lets out with Tommy and Steven both echoing in "boo!"

"Hey, you're the good child." Sharise snaps her fingers at Stevie. "Don't let Chip and Dale contaminate you." She states to him, motioning to Nikki and Tommy, brushing past me to go to the kitchen to clean their switch blades off.

I give pieces of cake out, which isn't that much work since there's only seven of us in total: Nikki, me, Vince, Sharise, Tommy, Steven and Tansy, and once we're done eating, Tansy's insisting on presents.

"Alright, time for presents in the living room." She claps her hands together and we all head there, Nikki falling back on a couch and pulling me onto his lap.

"I'm gonna let you open 'em, babe." He tells me, patting at my hips where I shift to rest on one of his spread knees.

"Nikki, opening them is the best part." I argue.

"Which is exactly why I'm letting you do it." He replies, smiling tightly, but I know it's really because he doesn't feel like doing it.

I just roll my eyes playfully and Tansy organizes the presents around us.

"Okay, great and mighty one, which present would you like to be opened first?" I ask him and he leans over a little to see past me to examine the various shapes and sizes of his gifts.

"I want...that one." He points in the direction of a small, rectangle shaped box wrapped in news paper and Tansy hands it to me.

"This one's from me and Stevie." She adds.

"Thanks." I tell them, taking it from her and I dig into the paper and unravel it, seeing a black guitar pick, with a tiny name etched into it with white ink, I have to squint to make it out, but when I see who it's from, I know Nikki will love it.

I hand it to him, and he struggles to get his eyes to focus before looking at Tansy.

"Marc Bolan?" He asks her, impressed. "I didn't even think you knew who Marc Bolan was." He says to Tansy.

"I didn't until he died and Vince went into a depression over it for a few months." She explains. "But Stevie and I were thinking of what to get you, and then Doc helped me get in contact with his wife earlier this year and she still has his things and sent us that for you." She explains.

"Aww, that's cool." Sharise pipes.

"Guys, you didn't have to do that." I state.

"Aw, man, thanks, guys, I really like it." Nikki tells the two blondes, keeping himself from tearing up as he plays it off by clearing his throat, handing the pick to Tommy and Vince so they can look at it.

"You're welcome, dude." Steven replies.

"Alright, next is from..." Tansy looks at the name tag attached to a box wrapped in black paper. "...Tommy and Heather."

"It's kinda for you and Vivian." Tommy tells us. "We were gonna wait for Christmas but I figured it'd be better for your birthday."

"Is it raunchy?" I ask him to make sure.

"No." He assures me, smiling excitedly as I start unwrapping it.

I get it unwrapped and open the box to see a thickly packed book, and open it up to see an old picture of Nikki and I, visibly scowling at each other, looking like we're in the middle of an argument. He's in one of their old stage outfits they played the clubs in, in their early days and his black hair is completely covering his eyes, while I'm not wearing a trace of makeup, my hair pulled into a ponytail and my middle finger in his face.

Under the picture reads "The Whisky, '81."

I start flipping through it, seeing more candids and pictures of the two of us, featuring the guys, Tansy, their girlfriends at the time, groupies, Ozzy and his band, us with Sharon, the guys of Ratt, fans, us standing in front of important landmarks in other countries and different states we've visited in the U.S., our wedding photos, our reception pictures, "Shout at the Devil" era, "Theater of Pain" era...practically an entire montage of some of our biggest highlights and smaller, more intimate moments in between, featuring all of our friends and people we look up to and admire, all up to this year because there's even pictures of us hanging out with them recently.

Every picture is marked with a place, month and year and I sniffle back tears.

"You were so cute." Nikki comments as I pass the album to him and he's looking at one of the first pages at a picture of me and Tansy from one of their earlier shows. "You look like a baby." He adds, chuckling, patting at my thigh and I look at Tommy, more tears spilling over my lashes.

"Viv." He starts, smiling goofily at me.

"Aww, don't cry or I'll cry." Steven states.

"I'm sorry." I laugh a little, Sharise handing me a tissue from the box on Tansy's side table beside the couch before I'm getting up to see Tommy.

He's sitting on the edge of a comfy chair, and welcomes me with open arms when I sit across his long, skinny legs, and hug him as tightly as I possibly can.

Tansy leans over to look at the pictures with Nikki and she smiles.

"This was the night you lost your virginity, Viv!" Tansy pipes, holding the album up to show me a picture of me with my hand on ice--because Nikki slammed my fingers in my car door on accident--looking like I want to strangle Nikki and Vince as they try to wrap my hand up like a bandage, using a sock, which didn't work out anyway.

"You lost your virginity with one hand?" Steven asks me and Nikki and I exchange looks.

"It was her first time so it's not like she was doing much work, anyway." Tansy states.

"Okay, we can change the subject." I reply, awkwardly.

"She was doing plenty without needing her hands." Nikki insinuates reminiscently. "That's when I learned her little prude act is a cover up."

"Babe." I complain as Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to imagine me and Nikki having sex.

"Fine." Nikki chuckles, nudging at Tansy to get him another present.

Once he's done unwrapping the rest of them, Sharise and I are picking up the wrapping paper and throwing it in the garbage can, and cleaning the place up while the guys talk in the living room.

By the time we're finished, we're heading back to the living room and I'm sitting down next to Nikki, laying my head on his thigh because I'm sleepy.

His fingers brush against the red strands of my hair soothingly, and I maintain on the brink of sleep, but still able to hear everyone's conversation and sudden bouts of loud laughter.

I'm nudged awake as Vince, Tommy and Steven talk about taking Nikki out to a few bars here in Malibu for his birthday.

Nikki stands up and I just put my head back down on the couch when he gets up before he's chuckling to himself.

"Let me get her to bed and I'll be out there." He tells them. "Viv, baby, c'mon, let's go to bed." He says to me and I stretch, humming softly as I wake up, sort of.

When he sees I'm not getting up, he leans down, and picks me up bridal style as Tansy points him in the direction of guest bedrooms.

My back hits the soft mattress and I feel him pulling at my jeans to get them off and I find the motivation to try to fumble to get my constricting bra off.

He sees me struggle to unbuckle it in my hazy state and scoffs a little, helping me get it undone before I'm throwing it in the floor.

He's pulling the covers back so I can curl up underneath them.

"I'll be back later, k?" He asks and I nod with my eyes still closed, getting comfortable on the bed.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired, I'll give you the best blow job ever later on." I promise him, knowing he probably expected a fun night for the both of us for his birthday. "And can you ask Sharise or Tansy if they can sleep in here with me until you get back?"

"Okay, Viv." I hear his smile in his words before his lips are pressing to my forehead for a second. "Goodnight, baby."

"G'night." I mumble.

He steps to the door and switches the light off before stepping out.

He hadn't been that affectionate since we got married.

I blamed it on the fact it on the fact that he'd "sobered" up to focus on the album and kicked heroin.

He'd gotten back on freebase, yeah, but cocaine, in any form, never made him mean or vindictive.

He would hallucinate and get scared, but he wasn't consciously mean for no reason.

Heroin, however, turned him into the devil, and by that point in his addiction he functioned better on heroin, than not, because without it in his system he just couldn't think of anything else other than getting a fix and if you weren't apart of his aid for a fix, you weren't worth his time and he let you know.

So I thought he had kicked his heroin habit for the most part because he was being nicer than usual to me but oh, no.

He felt guilty for cheating on me so he compensated by not being an asshole to me as much--yet.

It makes sense to me, now. I'd feel like shit, too, if I were telling my mistress I was going to leave my wife for her because my wife was "suffocating" and "draining the life" out of me.

Which translates to, "I'm leaving my wife because she doesn't like or contribute to my addiction."

Christmas came and Jason was Nikki's Santa Claus.

Then came New Years...which winded up being near death experience number one of two involving my safety at the hands of Sikki.

Sharise, Skylar and I pull into the driveway in Sharise's car, and she's putting it in park as I grab my few shopping bags.

"Thank you for getting me out of the house." I tell her, unbuckling.

"No problem." She replies.

"Bye-bye, Sky." I say, waving to the baby tucked safely in her carseat with her fist in her mouth, leaning closer to her to press a kiss to the bottom of her foot, causing her to smile and kick a little. "Bye, Sharise." I add, giving her a hug as best as I can.

"Bye, Viv."

"Call me when you get home to me know you got back safe."

"I will. Love you." She calls before I close the door.

"Love you, too." I shut the door with my bags in hand and step to the front door, fiddling with my keys.

Just as I step inside, I furrow my brows at the sound of Rabid dog fight, until I realize it's Nikki screaming.

"You're not making any fucking sense so just shut the fuck up!" He yells and I start cautiously walking to our bedroom, putting my ear to the door, hearing a woman crying. "Stop whining and just go fuck yourself! Fuck you! Fuck Jesus and get the fuck outta my house!" He barks louder and the door is flying open and I'm met with a distraught, jittery Vanity, who's eyes are wide as can be, and the smell of burnt cocaine nearly knocks me to the floor.

She stumbles past me and out the front door, barefoot, and I'm dropping my things to go check on her.

"Hey, do you need me to call you a cab or your driver?" I ask her as she continues to walk to our gate at the end of the driveway.

"N-No, I got it." She assures me, shakily, and I feel like I'm looking at a beaten puppy.

"Vanity, I can call someone to take you back home. It's a long way from here." I try to persuade her but she keeps shaking her head.

"I'm fi...fine, Viv, I promise." She insists.

"Do you at least want your shoes?" I ask, my thumb pointing in the direction of our house.

"No, I'm fine." She wipes her tear stained cheeks frantically. "I'll get them later."

She turns to keep walking but I look down at her feet that are only covered by her thin black stockings, then down at my shoes.

"Vanity, here." I pull my sneakers off and she watches me, her eyes struggling to keep focus as I crouch down and put them on her feet, tying them in a double knot so they won't come untied and trip her up. "You can just give them back whenever you can." I add and she gives me a nod.

I step back into the house, and don't even bother Nikki.

I don't feel like putting up with his nasty attitude.

A few hours later, I hear the bedroom door open, and he's slowly coming into the living room, turning on the T.V. and flipping it to MTV.

"Vanity was here." I say to him, turning a page in my book, as more of a statement than a question and he just stares at the television. "I don't like when she's here while I'm not around. I always come home to you two coked out and fighting. It scares me." I tell him.

"I dont know why." He mumbles and I roll my jaw.

"Because when you freebase you always end up waving a gun around." I state. "I'd hate to be the woman married to the murderer of Vanity."

"If you knew the whole story you wouldn't care if she died or not." He scoffs to himself and I furrow my brows.

"Well, then, what's the whole story?" I ask, putting the book down and he sighs out, shaking his head a little.

"She just picks fights. She likes to pick fights with me." He says and I rub my lips together.

"Well, damn, Nikki, I do that. That doesn't mean you scream at her like you do to me." I take up for her and he rolls his eyes.

"Vivian, I'm not arguing with you so just shut up." He tells me, tiredly.

"Are you back on junk?" I ask next and he let's out a heavy breath.

"Vivian." He snaps, glaring at me. "Drop it."

"I take that as a 'yes'." I mumble.

"Why the hell do you not stop when I ask you to?" He asks me sharply.

"I'll stop picking at you when you want me to, when you stop the drugs when I ask you to."

"And this is why I liked you better a few years ago because you kept your fucking mouth shut unless I wanted it open." He stands up, walking away.

"Yes, because me keeping my mouth shut out of fear of my significant other was so much better than feeling comfortable enough to voice my concerns for you." I trail behind him as he steps to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. "Nikki," I breathe out and he ignores me, causing me to cringe as he cracks open the beer bottle lid with his teeth, and before he can spit it in the floor, I'm plucking it from between his teeth. "I'm not trying to be a bitch or piss on your parade." I tell him, softly, throwing the lid away as he takes a swig of the beer, leaning against the counter. "I'm worried about you. Our friends are worried about you. Doc is worried about you."

"Doc's only worried about me because the office is on his back because I'm apart of the label's money train and if they lose me, they lose Mötley Crüe, and all the money we bring in." He states.

I feel bad, because it's true.

"I'm fine, Viv." He lies as he puts on a fake smirk that tries to tell me he has it under control, but it's really telling me he needs help...even if he doesn't realize he does.

He puts his beer on the counter beside him before pulling at my hand, tugging me to him, wrapping his arms around me and I hold him with my arms around his waist, looking up at him, trying not to gag because he smells like straight cocaine and sweat.

"I wanna write a song about you for the album." He tells me, his hand running through my hair.

"Are you being serious or deflecting from the fact I'm not very happy with you right now?" I ask, raising a brow.

"If I wanted to deflect anything I'd just bend you over and go to town." He shrugs and I cut my eyes at him.

He licks his lips before leaning down, but I put my hand over his mouth, stopping him from kissing me.

"After you get a shower and brush your teeth."

I'd hoped his spat with Vanity was the last for the day.

I shouldn't have thought that highly of him to only have one freebase session.

The house is pitch dark, not even the lamp in the living room is on.

Nikki must've cut it off when he went back to our bedroom.

I ended up falling asleep as he was taking a shower, and he didn't bother to wake me up when he was done.

I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, padding over the fluffy carpet of our living room after I get off the couch and stretch.

My hands carefully feel around to make sure I don't run into anything while my feet make slow, deliberate steps.

I get to the door of our room, that isn't locked, surprisingly, and I turn the door knob.

It lets out an eerie, growling "creak" as it opens and I smell bitter drugs and hear heavy, loud breathing coming from the closet, gasps escaping between each breath as Nikki scrambles around.

I can't see anything but the very faint glow of a small tea candle in the closet that he's using to see what he does, but I know he's in there.

I take one step into our room, and a wail of the deepest fear cracks through the air before a booming gun shot chases after it.

I'm hitting the floor as fast as I can, screaming as my ears ache from the noise as he just starts shooting repeatedly, and the house shakes, my only chance of protection is getting under the bed and I rush to get there, covering my ears as my spine paralyzes with fear and more shots fire out. I hear things in our house breaking and shattering from buckshot that flies through the open doorway as Nikki is shouting "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" with raw tears in his voice.

I keep a hand over my mouth to keep from crying too loud or else he'll open fire in this direction and keep his aim low.

I don't know if I'm hit or not, I'm scared to move around a little just to see, because he'll hear me shifting around on the carpet.

He thinks something is attacking him, he isn't thinking about it being me.

I wait for several minutes, trying not to breathe loud.

Thinking he's settled down, I shift from under the bed as quietly as I possibly can.

My ankle pops with my movement, and I immediately know I've fucked up the second he starts up again, and I feel the pressure of a smatter of shrapnel grip to my thigh and I fall on the ground, my instincts kicking in to get the hell away.

This time I crawl out of our room until I'm tucked behind the wall that leads to the living room then I'm standing and tripping over things in the floor to get to the phone in the living room, praying to God that Nikki doesn't get ballsy and get out of the closet to try to chase whatever he's hallucinating that I am, out of the house with more shots.

I'm turning on the lamp and dialing my emergency number before turning the lamp off and dragging myself to the christmas tree in the corner, holding the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Fred croaks tiredly.

"Fred..." I whisper.

"Viv? Why the fuck are you whispering?"

"N-Nikki's got a gun." I say as calmly as I can, another "BOOM" zipping through the house and I put my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

"Vivian, what the hell is going on?!" I can tell the sound of a gun has woken him up as panic fills his voice.

"He's got a gun, he's hallucinating, I got hit with some buckshot but I don't know how much." I very quietly say. "Don't call the cops. He'll get in trouble." I add, taking deep breaths as the pain starts to set in.

"Viv, I'm coming, alright? I'm coming, get somewhere and get still. I'm coming." He promises.

"Please, hurry, Fred, I'm scared." I plead under my breath, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"I'm coming, I promise. I'm hurrying. I promise." He hangs up and a wave of quiet sobs rocks through my body, my eyes squeezing closed as I beg God to let Nikki come down.

I just got a sprinkling of metal pellets from the shell that the majority missed me, and it was in the side of my thigh, but I felt like satan had dug his nails into my leg, down to the bone.

By the time Fred's unlocking our door, and switching on the light, a angry look on his face as he has his pistol out, he heads to our bedroom before coming to me.

"He's out cold." He tells me, turning on the other light over the living room. "Holy fuck, Viv." He says and I look down at my thigh, fear gripping at my heart and I start crying.

My skin is torn to shreds, deep, black tails of metal are deep in my flesh and I'm bleeding everywhere.

"Alright, we gotta get you to the hospital." He tells me, scooping me up and my heart pounds.

"Is Nikki gonna be in trouble?" I ask him frantically, starting to get more and more worked up.

"We don't have to tell them how this happened, Vivian. You probably need fucking surgery to get that shit out of you or you're fucked. You don't have a choice." He states, carrying me out to his car.

Turns out buckshot is more brutal than I expected. I was rushed into surgery while Fred contacted Doc, and he got ahold of the guys before going to see notify Nikki he had shot his fucking wife.

Once I was finally out of surgery, they were pumping me full of morphine to ease the pain of my shredded thigh because they had to cut into more of me to dig around to get all the metal out.

"I want a divorce." I mumble to the sound of Doc and Fred talking quietly amongst themselves, as I come to, but keep my eyes shut.

"How're you feeling?" Doc asks me and I force my eyes open, squinting through my sleep.

"My husband just tried to fucking kill me. I'm not okay." I grumble, trying to sit up in the bed, expecting to feel the pain I felt before surgery from my thigh, but I don't feel anything.

I barely feel my emotions. "Am I drugged?" I ask them tiredly, glancing up at the IV drip they have me on.

Fred and Doc don't say anything, just observing my experience with the first strong drug I've been in contact with.

I lean back, actually relieved that I truly don't give a shit about anything right now.

"I get it, now." I scoff, closing my eyes.

"Vivian--"

"Did I hear Duff, earlier?" I cut Doc short. "Or was I dreaming?"

I recall hearing Duff slurring "where's he fucking at? I'll fucking kill the motherfucker? Where's he fucking at?" but can't decide if I was dreaming or if he was actually here at some point.

"He's in the waiting room with Steven and Slash." Doc informs me. "We had to get him calmed down before he got himself kicked out."

"He wants to kick Sixx's ass." Fred informs me and I smile a little to myself.

"I wanna kick Sixx's ass, too." I agree. "Go get them. I feel like I'm about to fall asleep again and I wanna see them before I go."

"Alright." Fred stands up and steps out of the room.

"The bullshit has got to stop, Doc." I tell him, hoarsely. "The heroin. The coke. The alcohol. All of it. I'm getting tired of fighting." I admit and he let's out a breath.

"I know, Viv."

"I'm so tired."

"When we get you out of here, I'll talk to him."

"Does he know where I'm at?"

"I tried to wake him up and tell him but he was too doped on smack." He explains.

"He told me he wasn't on smack anymore." I say, finding it weird that I know I feel sad, but unable to feel the weight behind the emotion.

Before he can reply, the knocking on the door signals Duff's arrival as he slowly opens it.

"Hey!" I greet him as cheerfully as I can, my eyes barely able to keep open.

"Hey, Viv." He tries to play off his feelings but I can tell he's been worried. "Uh, Slash and Steven had to head home but they're coming later on." He adds. "No, it's okay, you're here. That's all I cared about." My cold hand reaches out for his hand and he's taking it.

"I'll leave you two alone for a little." Doc tells us. "I'll see if I can reach Tommy and Vince, now."

He leaves us alone and Duff's rubbing his lips together.

"You've been drinking." I say with lack of filter.

"Yeah, I was out partying." He tries to play it off with a smile.

"I was, too." I reply, grinning lazily and he let's out a soft breath. "Oh, come on, if I can't joke about getting shot, I'll cry and I'm tired of crying so just humor me."

"I think I've been humoring you the past year, Vivian. Every time you've sworn he was gonna change." He says a little more seriously.

"He didn't mean to do this, Duff. He didn't. He gets high, and he gets scared, and he thinks something's after him."

"Fred told me if you would have been hit with the brunt of the shot, your leg would have been useless, Viv."

"But I didn't." I argue softly, a tear trailing down my cheek. "God keeps me safe."

"I don't think God wants you staying in a relationship with someone who fucking puts the life he gave you, in danger." He states.

"Do you even believe in God?" I completely belittle what he just said. "Because if not, it's in your best interest not to speak on His behalf." I finish.

"How the fuck are you so argumentative when you're on morphine?" He asks, managing to bury the argument that was brewing.

"I don't fucking know I'm just tired." I let out.

"I can go, I just needed to see you were--"

"--Can you sleep with me?" I ask him out of nowhere.

"I don't want to piss anybody off." He tells me, but I know he really means, "I don't want to risk Nikki finding out and getting the wrong idea."

"My ass is hanging out of this gown, thigh looks like a fucking piranha got a hold of it, and I've had to use the bathroom in front of a nurse so she can monitor the consistency of my shit. I feel violated in every sense. I don't give a fuck what people think of my best friend sleeping in the bed with me for comfort's sake."

"Scoot over." He says, and I gently move the best I can to make room for him.

He gets in next to me, lifting his arm to rest above his head so I can lay beside him comfortably, and before long, his soft snoring brings a peaceful blanket of serenity and wraps it around me as I give into the drugs in my system pulling me into a sleep so I can help myself heal.

#nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction #gateway drug

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