#anyway me and my wife are fuckin in love with this show. we've both worked horrible office jobs and especially love the anti-work shit

[giantkillerjack]

12 hours after the amazing digital circus episode 2 airs, I see a video on youtube entitled "THEY RUINED JAX!!! 😡"

Like, chill! They literally haven't even finished SHOWING US Jax!! 😂 He's still only had a few dozen lines! I'm sorry about the Jax in your headcanon that you've been growing in the space between episodes, but I don't think there's been enough time to ruin that rabbit yet! 😅

[cryptidghostgirl]

so sorry for this (very) specific request hope it's not ocish

anyways alastor x wife reader who's a virologist / kinda a mad scientist??(girl just wants to start a apocalypse without anyone to bother her)

Like they got married for mutual benefits (whatever benefits he would gain and her having access to money for her wildest dreams) when they were humans (whether he actually loves her or not is up to you lmao)

They both die (I assume that she would die around when he died from her own negligence caused by her 'freedom' to do her work more often without actually worrying about him finding out) and she avoids him like the plague (not that hard to realize this so called radio demon is your 'husband' when you find his secret stash of 'local cuisine' in the fridge)

Then he goes missing and she finally kinda goes out of makeshift hiding, just chilling doing her evil deeds before finding about the Hazbin Hotel from some gossip

Deciding that, while redemption is most likely not gonna happen mostly for the fact she does not care, she joins Charlie's little program. For her own little project (just wants to have a angel test subject, gotta see if they can be a good carrier for her little virus)

The reader doesn't know that Alastor's back (you think she's gonna use vox tech? Or listen to the radio? Girl uses a non vox tech phone and maybe a computer and does her work) so she goes and knocks on the door to the hotel

Thinking that this shit is gonna be easy, after all her husband is gone so she won't be bothered by him. She can focus on her beautiful creations and maybe destory hell and heaven with a apocalypse for some laughs. While also getting access to heaven through Charlie somehow (maybe even Lucifer, girl doesn't know nor care)

Anyways you can just IMAGINE her surprise that right after Charlie greets her (Vaggie ofc suspicious af cause she knows damn well no sinner wants to be redeemed for the most part) then here comes the strawberry pimp coming to say hello

Would he recognize his lovely wife? Maybe

Ofc reader had a plan, and by plan I mean she just says they were married and now acts like their divorced (death do us part and we fuckin dead)

(Just for example, do what you want <3)

Anyways I'm sorry again (can you tell that I've been watching a lot of mlp infection aus :') )

A/N bestie,, i love an overly detailed request. no apologies. i hope i did it justice <3 <3 I have literally been obsessing over the whole 'we're dead. we've been parted.' reader idea. It's so fun. Also I am very sorry it took me so long to get to this. Also, I am not a woman nor am I in STEM (I'm an enby in history) so apologies if science stuff in this is bad. I'm basing the character off of Entrapta (my love) from Nate Stevenson's She-Ra remake.

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Gore. Murder. Bodies. Animal cruelty (not detailed at all just like test subjects and burning ants as a kid). Viruses/plague talk. Just capital d Death all around in this one folks. Suicide and starvation briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,584

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n hadn't been sad when Alastor died. It didn't really even register on her radar that he was gone until the police showed up at her door. Their marriage was more of an agreement than anything else, a division of labor. Y/n was a talented virologist who came from a rather wealthy family. He got access to her money, using it to start his own radio studio, and Y/n? Well Y/n got a clean up crew.

She had always been fascinated by death. It was a morbid curiosity that had followed her since childhood. The typical 'burning ants with a magnifying glass to mass murderer' pipeline only, murder was not exactly her objective. Since learning of the Black Death in school, she had been fascinated by biological warfare and weaponry. The stories of soldiers throwing infected bodies over the walls of city's to break down their defenses? It was magnificent, masterful, absolutely awe inspiring. Living through the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, watching how it tore through her city of New Orleans, only furthered her determination.

As soon as she had had the knowledge base to do so, she began working on bio-weapons on her own. She wanted to create a disease, to devastate the world. She wanted to watch the things around her crumble into ruin and know it was by her hand.

She'd found out about Alastor's hobby by accident. They were friends, of a sort, in that Y/n would show up randomly where ever he was and quiz him about radio waves. He worked at a radio station and she knew that. She had followed him, tracked him down. There was no reasoning behind it save he was the first person she'd really found out about that was involved in the business in New Orleans. She would pick his mind about getting the word out about things, marketing, advertising. She was prepping for the main event, for the day she finally created her magnum opus.

One day, when she had shown up unannounced at his door and broken in when he didn't respond to her knocking, Y/n had discovered him dismembering one of his victims. Alastor had stared at her, wide eyed in shock, fear and adrenaline mixing into an intoxicating combination in his veins. Y/n had just smiled.

She had been wondering about human experimentation for a while now. Animals were easy to cover up, easy to bury in the back yard but people? It had always been too risky, up until now anyways.

So it went like this: Y/n funded Alastor's dreams and he hid the side effects of hers. When he died, Y/n didn't really feel anything too strongly about it at all. Yes, it made life harder in that if she wanted to keep using human guinea pigs she'd have to figure out a way to dispose of them on her own but it also made it easier. Alastor had always been so obsessed with image, dragging her to office parties and forcing her to sit down to meals with him. Now that he was gone, she could work on her projects in peace once again. The body thing was something she would figure out along the way. She was smart and she wasn't going to let something like that stop her, not when she was this close to cracking it.

As it turns out, Alastor had been more of a help than Y/n believed. So used to his nattering and persistence, she had stopped eating. It wasn't long before she joined her husband in death. The papers of course had a field day with it. Heiress and Virologist Y/n L/n Withers Away Due to Heartbreak. Y/n L/n Starved Herself to Death and Joins her Murderer of a Husband. Virologist Commits Suicide After Revelation of Dead Husband's Criminal Deeds.

When Y/n had woken up in Hell, her whole world had been turned upside down. If there was life after death, what was the point of killing everyone on earth? She was back at square one.

Rumors were already buzzing through the streets of Hell about some new overlord, some Radio Demon, who had a strikingly similar MO to her husband. Not wanting any distractions this time around, Y/n secluded herself in the outskirts of the pride ring to reformulate her plans.

For decades she worked, trying to create a poison to wipe out the dual planes of the underworld. Work was easier here. No one questioned why she bought the things she bought, no one got upset when people went missing. Hell, no one even blinked twice if they saw her burying a body. It was a veritable paradise for Y/n.

Eventually, news reached her of the Radio Demon's disappearance. Y/n had never been the biggest fan of technology that wasn't involved in her work. In the world of the living, she had barley read the papers. All the machines in her laboratory were ones she had built herself through trial and error. But still, somehow, the news reached her and she felt elated. The last thing weighing her down, the last road block had officially been lifted.

Within seven years, she had perfected the disease. Having run tests on lower rings of Hell, she prided herself on her ability to make it so infections, so deadly. The survival was on par with that of unvaccinated human's infected by rabies. But her plan wasn't complete, no. Taking out everyone in Hell wasn't good enough, she had to figure out how to get it into Heaven as well.

That was when the perfect opportunity fell in her lap. Y/n nearly cried when she caught sight of the interview through the window of a shop selling Vox branded TVs. Charlie Morningstar, Lucifer's little brat, was creating a hotel for sinners, where they could be rehabilitated and sent to Heaven. It was perfect, almost too perfect. Y/n didn't question it, her own excitement blinding her. She barley even took the time to come up with a plan that consisted of more than get into the hotel and get her hands on an angel. She figured that was something that could be dealt with later on.

After a few days of research and snooping, she finally made her move. Having packed her bags and woven her way through the streets of Pentagram City, she found herself before the brightly lit marquee of the Hazbin Hotel. Placing her bag on the ground beside her, the test tubes and various paraphernalia inside clinked gently against one another. Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

It was Charlie herself who answered, with wide eyes and an earnest smile. A smaller moth demon beside her crossed her arms, eyeing Y/n with doubt. It barley registered with the excitable demon, she was used to the strange looks. The new form Hell had granted her with when she died was odd, after all. She was still the same height, still held a roughly human shape, but her hair had become its own beast. It moved like secondary limbs, falling nearly to the floor from the pigtails she had tied it up into. It shot up into the air around her in joy at the sight of yet another open door in her path, this one literal rather than figurative.

"Hello!" Charlie exclaimed, "Are you here to check in?"

"Yes, check in." Y/n nodded, using her hair to pick her bag back up.

She took a step forward, trying to enter the hotel, but found her path blocked by the smaller grey demon. Her arms were uncrossed now, one of them pointing a spear right at Y/n's neck. Y/n didn't flinch, she simply looked down at it in curiosity, reaching a finger up to touch the end.

"Ow." she said flatly as the spear's tip pressed into the pad of her finger.

Raising it to her eyes, she rubbed the droplet of blood that had pooled on her pointer finger with her thumb before turning back to the spear.

"Is this..." Y/n leaned forward, grabbing the spear's shaft.

"Hey!" Vaggie yelled threateningly as Y/n crouched down, examining the weapon carefully.

"Oh my stars, this is an angelic blade, isn't it?" she exclaimed, her eyes still fixed on the spear.

"Uh..."

Vaggie was more confused now than anything and she took the slightest step away from the excited demon. Y/n followed her and soon, they were in the entry way to the hotel. Charlie watched the scene play out with mild amusement, finding her girlfriends bewildered state rather charming. She let the door fall shut.

"It is, isn't it?" Y/n asked again, "But how did you get it? Did you make it? What do you do with it? Is it more effective than normal weapons? Why a spear? I-"

"What's this, we have a new guest?" a crackling voice cut Y/n off.

"Uh, yes!" Charlie stepped in, turning to face the newcomer.

Y/n, still preoccupied with the spear, was now engaged in trying to get Vaggie to let her hold it.

"I think..." Charlie doubtfully added, her brow furrowing at the site.

"Well well well, a little devil." Alastor hummed, turning to watch the show as well, "Honestly, reminds me of someone I knew back when I was alive and kicking. Ah well, what's her name?"

"I don't... actually know that yet." Charlie admitted, fiddling with her hands a bit as she spoke, "But she seems really enthusiastic about being here!"

"It seems she more interested in that spear of Vaggie's than the idea of redemption." Alastor noted in response.

"Are either of you going to help me or are you just gonna sit and watch?" Vaggie exclaimed, trying her best to pry the spear out of Y/n's grip.

Alastor sighed and with a twirl of his microphone, a shadow arose, pulling Y/n off Vaggie. There was a split second where the smile on the girl's face fell. It quickly returned as she caught sight of what exactly had interrupted her escapades. Placing her bag on the floor with her hair, she wormed around in the shadow's arms, turning to face it. Tentatively, she poked it.

"Would you stop that?" Alastor asked, his voice thick with irritation.

Y/n poked the shadow again.

"What is this? How are you doing this?"

When no response came from the demon in question, she at last turned to face him.

"Oh."

She stilled in her movements and Alastor allowed the shadow to disappear.

"No reason to be scared." Charlie quickly stepped in, "I know Alastor here has a bit of a... reputation, but he is actually helping us at the hotel. He's really a great once you get to know him."

Alastor's smile widened as he bowed his head slightly in recognition of the praise.

"If you're going to be staying her-"

"You can't seriously be thinking of letting her stay here, Charlie." Vaggie cut in, "She's been here what, five minutes? And all thats come of it is chaos."

"Vaggie, come on, don't be like that." Charlie turned to her girlfriend, "Everyone deserves a second chance, that's the whole reason we built this place."

"But does she even want to be redeemed? I mean, what if she's... I don't know, trying to take us down from the inside out? What if she's a journalist or some shit trying to write us bad reviews?"

"You flatter me." Y/n smiled and Vaggie scoffed.

"See?"

"Isn't that all the more reason to let her in? Vaggie, if she is undercover as a journalist or something, we just have to prove to her how amazing what we're doing here is."

"I don't know... I've never seen her before, what if she's another one Vox sent?"

Y/n shook her head, sticking her tongue out slightly in disgust at this notion and Alastor chuckled. There really was something so familiar about this demon and her antics. Even if she was a tad irritating, it was a comfortable familiarity.

"Then we will figure it out, same way we did with Sir. Pentious. Okay?"

"Fine." Vaggie relented at last with a sigh.

Smiling brightly, Charlie turned back to Y/n.

"So, hi. I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! What's your name?"

Y/n's eyes flicked back and forth between Alastor and Charlie for a moment before settling on Charlie.

"Y/n L/n."

Alastor let out a little laugh of disbelief, a sound he had meant to keep in. He couldn't help it. Of course this little mess of a demon was his favorite crazy wife. Alastor had looked for Y/n on occasion, always keeping an eye on news involving anything scientific but, he had never found a trace. Not that he'd admit it but, in their time together, he had grown rather fond of the girl. Not love, never love, but a sort of familial feel. Everyone turned to face him.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Charlie asked, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm which he quickly brushed off.

"Yeah, do you know her or something?" Vaggie added, "Is she dangerous?"

"No..." he paused, his brow slightly furrowed, "She's my wife."

The room fell silent.

"You... you didn't recognize your own wife?" Vaggie asked in disbeleif.

"Ex-wife." Y/n corrected with a little sigh.

This was all becoming so tedious. She hadn't come here to sit and talk with people. While the spear and the shadow had been fun, they had both run their courses and she just wanted to get to work.

"I..." Alastor turned back to Y/n, "Ex-wife?"

Y/n shrugged.

"So you didn't recognize your wife and you didn't know you were divorced?" Vaggie asked, rubbing her temples, "Jesus fuck, man."

"I..." Alastor cleared his throat, "We were married when we were alive. I didn't even know she was dead yet."

"Yeah." Y/n shrugged, "Turns out all your nattering was what was keeping me alive. I forgot to eat, starved to death."

Alastor's eyes softened slightly for a moment at the notion. She had needed his care so badly that she had died with out it. It felt good, in a strange way. Satisfying. They darkened again as he recalled her earlier statement.

"Ex-wife?" he asked again, taking a step towards Y/n.

She looked up at him, her expression blank.

"Yeah?"

"When did we get a divorce!" Alastor exclaimed once he realized she would say nothing else on the matter without his prompting.

"Oh! We didn't." Y/n nodded, smiling slightly, "Now, can I go to my room?"

"No, Y/n. Why are you calling yourself my ex-wife? We are still married."

Y/n looked around at Charlie and Vaggie, seeing if they were going to back up her claim. Sighing, she turned back to Alastor.

"Do I really have to lay it out for you?" she paused and Alastor just stared at her, eyebrows raised, "Jesus. Uh, Al, we died."

"Yes...?"

"Till death do us part? That was the agreement."

"I... Well..." he was at a complete and total loss for how to respond.

She wasn't wrong, he just didn't like her answer very much.

"So... the agreement is done... yeah?"

"I mean," Alastor shook his head slightly, "I guess?"

"Great! Can someone please show me to my room now."

---

Next Part -> Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Tranquility chapter 4

Otis driftwood x reader

Foxy had kept his word and broken Otis out of prison. Intercepting him when he was on the chain gang was effective but did add more heat to the situation now that they were known that they were on the run. Unfortunately they didn't get a chance to grab baby out but they were going to worry about that at a later time. " I'm sick and fucking tired of being here, and eating these fucking beans". Otis took one last bite of the canned beans and tossed them on the ground. Their juices are squirting in every direction." You asshole now. You got bean juice all over my pants. Fuck and you are sounding very ungrateful lately"

Foxy wiped it bean juice from his pants with his bare hand. " When are we going? We've been here almost a month now. We're no closer to getting baby and you said you're going to take me to my wife" foxy signed, over the past almost month he had only had a chance to call you once or twice. He did tell you that once he broke out of jail he probably wouldn't be able to call again until he saw you. Just so there was no chance that anyone was listening on the line. Which wasn't the complete truth. He wasn't ready to go back to the life of being a third wheel with you and Otis. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He knew there was no reality where you two could be together without Otis being in the picture, he loved his brother. He wanted him back too but he felt like if you and Otis had spoken it would have shattered that fantasy that he had and he wanted to hold on to it a bit longer. " I think we should break baby out first and then we'll go get her," Foxy replied, lighting up a cigarette. "no" Otis said firmly, "I'm tired of waiting until we go tomorrow". foxy signed "fine let's go over the plan again".

After the plan was set, breaking into the warden's house and blackmailing them to spring baby, All they had to do was get you next. Foxy kept insisting this was a bad idea due to the fact that they would have to backtrack a bit to get you and then come and get her, but Otis insisted. They didn't know what was going to happen after they sprung her out and he didn't want any chance of having to leave you behind again this year that he had been without. You were the hardest that he had ever faced. You were leaving together or you weren't leaving at all. That was his mindset. "So where's she working anyway?" Otis looked over to Foxy driving, "it's a tit joint she's a waitress", "a tit joint huh" Otis's reaction was unreadable he seemed lost in thought. "I didn't like it either but she insisted, good money close to the hotel, I even got her a little car". "You should have brought her with us. I don't like the idea of some bum dick face getting the wrong idea and I'm not there to slit his throat". "She's tough man you know that and it's safer for her away from all this" "don't fuckin tell me what's best for my woman, I know she's tough but still I know men". They rode in silence for the rest of the trip back. Otis had insisted they leave that night for you; he was tired of waiting.

Unknown to the both of them you had eventually applied as a dancer, it was hard at first you weren't the most graceful but the other girls were kind and helped show you the ropes. "Just go with it feels the music do what comes natural, fuck if it doesn't make sense these assholes are just happy to see a pair of tits". You had one rule that no lap dances were only for your husband. They didn't understand and management gave you shit about it, but they needed girls and so they looked over it. Pulling up to the club Otis and Foxy got out scanning the area."wait what's her fake name she's going by?" Otis asked "ah shit I don't know" "great" "man shut up it won't be hard to find her". They walked through the low lights and smoke filled the air. They had seen your car out front so they knew you were working. "Hey" Otis said, grabbing the arm of one of the girls passing by. "I have a question." "Hey hands off asshole," she pulled her arm away, quickly staring at him. "Sorry darlin, he's just a little worried his wife didn't come home and she works here, have you seen her? She's got y/e/c /h/c /height?"

"What's her name?""we don't know her waitress name here". "Sorry can't help ya" she turned to walk away when Otis spotted you dancing on a smaller stage "wait her! Who is that?" She looked over at you "oh that's kitty she doesn't give dances though she said she only gives her husband lap dances". Otis didn't answer at first he was in a trance watching you dance, you looked like you were flying, it was like seeing an angel in the flesh, he froze my god he thought to himself. "Well, can you tell her that her husband is here?" Foxy asked her, trying to keep his eyes Off you dancing. He felt his Palms get sweaty so he gripped them tightly. "Her husband? Wait, you're Kitty's husband?" The woman looked him up and down." Is There a problem?" Otis asked, tilting his head to the side. The woman awkwardly cleared her throat"no not at all I'll go tell her" she turned and hurried away. Otis and Foxy sat down and ordered a couple drinks as they waited for you to finish your set. "Shit sorry man I didn't know she was a dancer" Foxy said."Why don't you go get a dance while I wait here?" Otis replied not looking at him, Foxy was hesitant but eventually agreed it would be better district himself here he thought to himself. He felt the familiar tightenings of his jeans as he kept sneaking glances at your dance, fuck you were beautiful and so sexy. "Ite I'll be back" he said as he downed his drink and walked away. Otis's eyes never once leaving you as you floated across the stage.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Dress You Up In My Love (Darren Treacy x Jeanie Turner)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut, language, cross dressing kink

A/N: Darren needs just one night to hide after pulling a hit on Dublin's biggest drug lord. He turns to secondary family where he finds out something surprising about himself and unfinished business from his cousin's wedding. (Takes place in series two between episodes 5 and 6. There ARE spoilers for series two of Love/Hate.)

A frantic knocking sprung Jeanie out of sleep that she didn't remember falling into. She hurriedly pulled on the hotel bathrobe and shouted at the door she was coming. A glance at the clock told her it was 8pm. Still plenty of time for him to come by.

Jeanie opened the door and gasped. “Dazz?! What's going on?”

“Is Gordo here?” The man shifted from foot to foot outside the doorway. He had a motorcycle helmet in his hands and a wild look behind bright green eyes.

“No. He's been up at Trinity in that fucking lab all day. I've not seen him.”

“I need a place t’crash for a few days,” he half-begged, half informed Jeanie as he pushed past into the suite. “Crikey this is posh. If I knew Gordo was gonna grow up t’have this kinda cash, I wouldn't have poked fun at the specs n shite.”

“Darren is there something I can help you with? As we've not seen you in four years?” Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest.

“I.. Did something. Just need a place t’lay low. Figured my cousin was th’last place anyone would look.” There was a shrug in his voice.

“Why not Rosie?”

Darren started to shed his jacket then ran a hand through his shaggy hair, “Best not involve her either. Not exactly talking these days.” He held his jacket out to Jeanie.

“Fuck off with that!” she swatted the jacket away.

“Oi! Just hold it while I take off the rest.”

“Rest of what? Your clothes? Hi Darren. Haven't seen you since the wedding. You've grown up. Sorry about Robbie and your mum. Thank you, Jeanie. How have you been? How's Scotland? Just lovely. Don't see Gordon for days and he's had TWO affairs.”

“Fair point, darlin,” Darren stepped out of his boots and unzipped his sweatshirt. “The Treacy side ain't exactly one t’write home about. Are we, yeah? ‘Cept Mary.”

Jeanie took the leather jacket and pinched her nose. Eyes closed. Something sticky about it made her recoil. Eyes popped open. She held her hand up; it was speckled brownish red.

“Dazz is this blood?!”

“Best you don't know. Can I shower?”

“I don't know, can- JESUS DARREN PUT SOME FUCKING CLOTHES ON” Jeanie covered her eyes.

“I'M IN UNDERWEAR!” he shouted back, laughter in his voice. “Alright, Ginge. Haven't ye ever seen a grown man in his underwear? You just need to get rid of those anyway ye can. Please?”

“Well you certainly aren't 16 anymore.”

“I was 18 when ye’s got married. Don’t ye remember?” his eyebrow arched suggestively.

“I would say I tried to forget, but when I'm stuck alone at night, or in a hotel for days at a time, I don't feel bad. It really was foreshadowing for the rest of our marriage.”

“Gordo’s cousin trying t’shag his new wife th’night he got married? Almost got that tossover. Pride myself on that.”

“I was hammered and you have very hypnotic eyes. Like Kaa in the Jungle Book”

Darren frowned, his brows knit together in confusion. His lower lip turned out as he struggled to comprehend that as compliment or insult.

Jeanie couldn't help but stare now. A proper look. Darren's body hadn’t changed much since she last saw him. Still thin, muscles a bit more defined. Scars littered his chest and stomach as he exhaled deeply. It was labored.

“Are those from a gunshot?” Jeanie looked minorly distressed.

Darren absently ran his fingers over the old wounds. “Aye. Working on one lung and I'm a bit barmy now.” Like it was no big deal.

Jeanie sighed heavily, but stopped to gather up his clothes. “I'll take a walk, and ditch these. Against my better judgment. Clean clothes are in our bags. You're about his size I suppose.” She rummaged around in the closet by the front door for a garment bag.

“You're a fucking beauty!” Darren snatched his cousin’s wife up in his arms. He pecked her cheek awkwardly.

“Towels are in the bathroom,” Jeanie grappled with what just happened. “I'll be back in half an hour. I hope whatever you did is fucking worth it. Dazz.”

“Trust me, love. No ones gonna miss him.”

------

Jeanie sloshed out of the canal bed glad she packed her Wellingtons for the unpredictable Irish weather. Grateful too for the stones she found along the water side. She had put the hotel pub news bulletin out of her mind warning of a gangland hit on a local known drug lord. One that showed up to her wedding on the arm of Darren and Gordon’s aunt.

“I hope Darren shot you right in the fucking face, and you knew it was him.” Jeanie muttered as she watched the clothes sink after she pushed the bag under the surface.

Maybe it was hypocritical she was relieved JohnBoy was dead. Dazz wasn't the only one who tried to fuck her that night, but he was the only one she welcomed. Maybe, Jeanie owed Darren a bit of physical gratitude.

-----

Jeanie shut the door behind herself and popped her boots off in the closet. She changed quickly in the bathroom.

“You hungry or anything? I hope you found clothes that-”

Jeanie stopped in her tracks when she came around the wall that divided the suite foyer from the bedroom. Darren with his back to the full length mirror, was twisted so that he could look at himself. He seemed to be staring at his own ass.

“What are you doing?!” Jeanie was surprised, but amused more than anything.

“Oh! What kinda fookin underwear does Gordo have?” Darren's cheeks were just a hint of pink as he caught Jeanie’s eye. “T’ere’s no place for my cock when I piss, but they feel nice? Like t’ere comfortably snug?” He caressed his ass for emphasis.

“Well, those are mine. Not Gordon’s boxer briefs. So that answers the cock question. And they look snug because you have.” Jeanie's eyes strayed down over the bulge that had grown inside the boy shorts. “Well you must REALLY like them.”

Darren's eyes were wide, but he didn't seem embarrassed. Not really. His gaze followed Jeanie's downwards to his erection. “Yeah looks t’at way, doesn't it. I promise ye, I've never done t’is before.”

“Who cares if you have. Women wear boxers all the time. Back home, when I was in uh, what's it here? 1st through 4th year, all we wore was boxers as regular shorts. If you like them, Dazz, you could try some more?”

Jeanie had sat down on the bed. One knee crossed over the other with her hands clasped together. She bit her lip while her heart drummed loud in her ears. A pleasurable discomfort as she began to throb at the sight of Darren in her panties. The anticipation of him getting into a sexier pair. Letting her feel them. It had been so long.

“I mean, I'm not going anywhere t’ night. I’m not dressing in full drag though,” he insisted.

Jeanie stood and rifled through the suitcase. “I didn't think you wanted to. My regular clothes wouldn't fit you anyways.” She bit her fingernail and debated between a deep purple and cobalt blue. “I'm built like an hourglass and you,” she laid her choices on the white duvet, “are built like a baby giraffe.”

Darren rolled his eyes but joined Jeanie at the bedside. He gravitated towards the purple ones. Mostly lace with a bit of satin, they would look absolutely obscene on him. In the best possible way.

“Ye were wearing these t’at night,” Darren was full of nostalgia.

“I didn't know your side of the family could be sentimental besides Mare,” Jeanie giggled. She couldn't help it. “I definitely married the wrong cousin. Sometimes, I wish I could legally kill him,” there was an uneasy humor in her voice.

“I mean, I would do it for ye.” Darren didn't even hesitate.

“Um..” Jeanie's face matched her hair.

Darren burst into laughter, “Ease up, darlin’. I'm fuckin with ye.”

Jeanie wasn't certain about that but she played along. His smile both unnerved her and turned her on. The way he studied her and then the panties with a curiosity and delight.

“Why don't you put those on, and I put on the bra. Then.. we can make a full set.” There was innuendo in Jeanie's suggestion.

“We can't.”

“We CAN. The right sentiment is whether or not we SHOULD.”

“Should I really put these on?”

“Would you really kill someone you care about?” It was a strange reciprocation.

“If I cared about Gordo, I would not have tried t’fuck his wife the night he got married.”

Jeanie licked her lips, flames curled around her ears and cheeks. “Put them on. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Liquor?” She reached inside her shirt and produced a small bag that she swung back and forth, “Cocaine from your jeans?”

Darren reached for it but she was quicker. Stuffing it back in her bra, she swatted his hand away. “How about you.. don't do stimulating narcotics with a PTSD chaser?”

“It keeps me awake so I don't have nightmares. Just go so I can put t’ese on!”

Jeanie planted herself on the bed after taking her shirt off. She leaned back on her elbows, legs crossed. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Fine! But close your eyes, so we can both be surprised. Wait, why’d ye take your shirt off?”

“Won't this make you more comfortable?” She pushed her chest forward a bit.

Darren’s eyes darted down to Jeanie's tits where they lingered longer than she expected. “Alright, sweetheart.”

Jeanie could listen to him talk for hours. Still she squeezed her eyes shut with a dramatic flare. “Go on then. I can't bloody wait.”

There was some shuffling around as Jeanie sat without peeking. Her heart raced in anticipation as she realized Darren had tossed what he was wearing at her feet.

A few minutes went by, and she lost patience, “Can I look? You've gotta have them on by now.”

“Fine, but don't laugh! I can't seem to get my junk in these.”

Jeanie opened her eyes and her mouth, “Fuck me, Dazz. Those are..” She stood up and made her way over to him from behind as he faced the mirror. Completely unable to stop herself. “You look delicious.” A word no one has ever used to describe either of them.

Jeanie’s hands on Darren's thin hips. They ran back and down over the sheer and lace over his ass. There was a playful squeeze before changing direction and flattening her hands on his. Downwards and into the indentation of his abs. Then she stopped to trace her fingertips over the angry red scars. Jeanie ran her fingers over them as if she wanted to memorize them.

Darren’s stomach convulsed a bit under her touch. “Jaysus,” he muttered under his breath. Eyes shut as Jeanie watched him in the mirror.

“Let me take care of you. Just one night,” she kissed between his shoulder blades. “You certainly deserve it after what you did today.”

“What did I do t’day?” Darren challenged Jeanie with his question. His hands covered hers, but not to push her away. To guide them down further over his erection.

Jeanie playfully squeezed again. The man in front of her let out a sound between a gasp and a moan when she began to rub the satin barely containing his cock. Her open palm gained friction as she worked faster. Where a man might find a woman's clit between her legs under the fabric, Jeanie moved her palm over Darren's balls.

“Eradicated part of Dublin’s largest pest population,” each word punctuated by her hand moving faster. Jerking him off without ever touching more than the underwear.

“I hope..” Darren's breath hitched and grew heavy. “Someone else..” his hips started to twist. “Ro-”

“I don't think we should talk about her right now, do you?” Jeanie cut him off. She finally let herself reach inside of the panties to properly take his cock in her grip.

Her thumb played with the head, slick with precum. Fingers wrapped around the shaft and stroked the length down and back up. She wasn't used to doing it from this angle but found it even sexier. The power she felt surge being the one in control. How wet she was inside her OWN panties.

Darren's head hung back as he lost himself in the ecstasy of what his cousin’s wife was doing. He didn't care that she was married. To a man who neglected her, ignored her.

Nidge. Tommy. His own sister. His cousin. They fucked around all the time. He and Rosie, that almost got her killed and they weren't even shagging. He knew he'd be livid if he caught her cheating. not violent mind you, but pissed. Just like if Siobhan or Trish did it. Or even Gordon. Everyone was a hypocrite.

Yet here was Darren. His cousin’s wife wanking him off while he wore her knickers. And he didn't give a fuck for once. His dick hadn’t been this hard in ages. That day he and Rosie had sex felt so long ago. They didn't do it much if at all since then.

Maybe this wasn't right, but Darren couldn't care anymore. He stood three feet above a malicious drug lord reduced to a cowering pussy and killed him. It was the same feeling as Jeanie's fingers as they twisted and kneaded his cock. Euphoric.

“If we don't take this to the bed. only one of us is gonna get a happy ending.”

Darren turned quickly. Faster than Jeanie could focus on. Their mouths finally crashed together as he gripped a handful of her. He shoved his tongue in her mouth and hands in her the pockets of the jeans she still wore. He dug his fingers into the thick of her ass as they stumbled back towards the bed.

Jeanie's hands labored in an effort to unbutton and unzip her pants around Darren's body as it thrust into her. She didn't want to stop the war their tongues waged as she struggled to tug the denim over her hips, but there was air as her husband’s cousin intervened. They laughed as he yanked them down to the floor and he went with them.

Darren looked up at Jeanie, who now sat on the edge of the bed, as he knelt on the floor by her feet. He helped each ankle as she lifted them out and literally kissed the tops of her feet as she drew them up on the comforter.

“That was romantic,” her voice thick and barely above a whisper. No hint of her usual sarcasm or humor, only some embarrassment. Her cheeks were pink.

“I've wanted t’fuck ye since we met. And I want ye to remember this for a long time.”

Darren stood up and hooked his fingers in the elastic of the underwear of hers that he was wearing. Jeanie covered his hands and leaned forward to kiss his stomach and his scars. Using her tongue this time to trace over them like she had her fingers.

“Leave them on? I'll never forget it if you let me fuck you wearing those.” Her fingers tangled up in the lace. Tips of her nails just brushed his cock through it.

Darren smiled in a way Jeanie wasn't sure he was capable of doing anymore. Right now, in this moment as his eyes changed from darkness to almost emerald, she knew he let himself forget. That's all she wanted. One night for both of them to forget.

“Can't say I've ever had sex like t’is,” excitement in his voice. “I'm right curious t’see how ye manage.”

“You lay down, and I'll play it by ear. This is definitely a new one for me too.”

They switched places. Darren laid down on the bed, head on the pillows. Jeanie unhooked her bra and slipped out of her own panties. She stood naked and exposed in the lamplight. Her heart raced when she realized he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. They traveled over her breasts and stomach and further still as she crawled on the bed beside Darren and straddled him.

“Fuck me,” it was a response. And a suggestion he made simultaneously. His hands spread out over her back and caught up in her long red hair.

Jeanie raised a bit up on her knees to situate herself. She lowered her body so that the outline of Darren's cock beneath the satin and lace was between the folds of her naked sex. Her hands anchored on his chest as she started to ride him.

“Jaysus your so fucking wet already,” Darren breathed and ran his hands up and down Jeanie's body. Over her shoulders and to her ass where they settled on her hips.

“It's you in my bloody knickers,” her voice wavered as she started to rock harder back and forth.

It was like a pleasurable rug burn on her cunt, as Jeanie closed her eyes and twisted her hips just a bit. She rode the length of Darren’s hardened cock completely from bottom to top and kept gaining speed each time. His strong hands buried in her waist helped her pump over and over. Then he angled himself underneath her so that the tip could hit her clit just right as she moved down.

Jeanie rode harder and faster. The satin and her cunt on fire as Darren's cock started its familiar twitch. She clawed at him without caring if someone else saw the marks on his chest. That explosion was building deep in her walls as they throbbed and ached for him to be entirely inside of her.

Instead Darren slid a thumb into her cunt. It replaced his cock as Jeanie started to lose control. Circled and fucked as she fucking him.

She clutched his wrist, “Harder. Rub my clit harder. Like that.”

He obliged all too eagerly. Especially when moments later she cried out unexpectedly. Her body rolled into an orgasm. He never let up with his thumb or his own hips as they bucked up into Jeanie as she came.

“Let me fuck you properly,” Darren begged as her cunt constricted around his hand. His thumb, the knickers and Jeanie's body slicker than before they started.

Then Darren's mobile rang. Darren's mobile was always ringing.

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @robertsheehanownsmyass @badsext @slutforrobbiebro @badsext @sean-falco

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

The Salem House or The Scottish Cottage

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Rod and Kirby move in to their new cottage home in Salem, Oregon.

Kirby's POV:

Rod blindfolded me with one of his ties and drove our rented van out to the property, taking off my blindfold in front of the house.

"There it is, our new home," he twirled the keys around his index finger, "all ours now, Kirbs."

There it was, white panel exterior with fancy windows and lights along both sides of the gravel path towards the house. Without thinking I pulled Rod into a hug and kissed him, tears of happiness rolling down my cheek.

"Woah, baby, are ya alright sweetheart?"

"I love it, and I love you and-" Upon hearing that, Rod hoisted me over his shoulder, "Woah, Roddy, what are you doing?"

"Taking you inside and carrying you to the one room I know you're gonna love."

He carried me through the front double doors, through the foyer and then the kitchen, before carrying me past the television and sofa, past what I believe is the ground floor bathroom and up the stairs, letting me get a glance at the basement staircase as we went up to the top floor of our new home.

He then put me down in front of a pale green door with a childish or childlike, chalk or pastel drawing on the front.

I turned the handle slowly, not knowing what to expect.

Then I saw it.

The lone white bassinet.

Surrounded by soft toys and things you'd assume would be in a nursery.

"The former owners said that they're daughter was gonna move in before she moved to L.A. They knew she had a baby and set this room up. I'm gonna be honest with ya and tell ya that I let a couple tears slip when I saw this room ma-self, so I completely understand if you need a moment alone."

"Rod, Roddy, as much as I hate the weird wallpaper in the foyer, this room is," I took a second to compose myself, "It's perfect."

"Do ya wanna see our bedroom?"

"Yeah."

Rod showed me around the rest of the house before going into the basement.

"There's no attic, so the basement will have to do if we want to store anything anywhere."

The basement was large, the only room separated off from the rest of the basement was another bathroom. I walked to the opposite side of the basement and stopped in my tracks.

"What's wrong babe?"

"They have a hot tub?!"

"What?"

Rod walked over to me, also stopping upon seeing the hot tub in it's own corner of the basement, separate from the gym equipment and rugs and the very empty basement.

"What d'ya reckon they use that for?" Rod asked, teasing me slightly.

"No, Rod, eww, that's gross, you wouldn't dare suggest that!"

"Hot tub sex, babe, it's a thing."

"We are not doing that. Ever!"

"We are alone in the house, you know." He started unbuckling his belt, chucking it as well as his sporran down at his feet, "I know we've gotta fly back to the other side of the country later, but, right now, we're home, honey," He started walking towards me, whipping his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in his kilt and boots as he ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep guttural sigh.

"I guess we could test out the new bed, Roddy." I started unbuttoning my shirt, exposing the peach toned tank top underneath.

"Or, We could have sex right here and now," He suggested, whipping his kilt off and in true Scottish fashion, revealing nothing but his bare body below.

He unclenched his hand, showing off the fact that he had brought a condom with him.

By the time we got to Taunton, Massachusetts on the first of March, Roddy had set aside some time for us to redecorate the house, and by the time we actually got around to redecorating, Roddy had recruited the rest of the D.O.D as well a Schultz, Orton and Orndorff to help us. We had met back at the house on the Eleventh (of March) and unbeknownst to me, Piper had made a couple calls to his friends from back in his NWA and Mid Atlantic days.

"Woo!"

"He didn't." Schultz grunted out, partly worried and partly surprised.

"He didn't do what … David?"

Schultz guided me outside to meet the guys.

"Piper! introduce ya wife to the boys, I'll go grab us some beer."

"I'm not his wife," I called after him as he walked back inside, "So, Roddy, who are these guys."

Rod leant up to kiss me, he would have backed me into the nearest wall if I didn't pull away immediately after, concern taking over any hint of a flirtatious mood in me.

"Who's this fine female?"

I recognised the voice from the yell earlier.

"Ric, this is my girlfriend, Kirby. Kirby, this is Ric Flair. Over there," he gestured to the other four, "Are Tully Blanchard, with the black hair, JJ Dillon, the other blonde looking one and Ole and Arn Anderson."

"Are they here to help or are they here to distract you?"

"The only thing distracting me is the idea of seeing you na-"

I covered Rod's mouth with my hand and gave Ric a sheepish smile, "I apologise for my hus, I mean boyfriend's attitude Ric."

"You almost said husband, Kirbs." Rod whispered to me as we led the boys inside, before he took me aside.

"It was a slip of the tongue."

"I'm sorry, about the kiss, I got a bit jealous because I know what Ric can be like, with women in particular."

"Rod, you shouldn't have to apologise for that, I love ya. I was going to start looking for you anyway, what d'ya want for lunch?"

"Don't you worry about that, I'll go grill those hamburgers we have in the fridge and … hey look, beer."

"Thank you, David."

"Anytime, Tall-ass."

"Look, babe, I'll deal with it alright, you stop worrying and I'll deal with it. I'm the man of the house so I'll deal with it."

I came up behind Roddy, putting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his waist, kissing his neck.

"I'm gonna go rest for a bit Rod, my head feels funny."

"Baby, baby come here."

Rod helped me upstairs, making sure I didn't fall over and letting me lay on the bed.

"We have today and tomorrow here baby, relax."

"Rod, you know me, you know I wind myself up with worry."

"I know," He brushed his thumbs over my knuckles, "I'm gonna get you some hand wraps or something, stop punching things until ya knuckles bleed."

"I thought you were gonna go cook."

"I am, but, right now, I'm taking in every little detail of the woman I love."

"You softie."

"Oh really? I'm soft. You worry way more than me baby."

"I love you, Roddy."

"I love you too, Kirby."

I slept for a short while until I was woken up by Piper and Schultz yelling obscenities at each other. I ran down the stairs and outside the house to see the two grown men squabbling like children.

Without saying anything I picked Roddy up by his midsection and took him back inside, chucking him down on the sofa.

"I'm gonna fuckin-"

"Roderick!"

"Yes, baby."

"You are drunk, and shut up."

"Yes, Sweetheart."

I helped Roddy up, almost gagging at how strong the smell of alcohol was coming from him, swiftly avoiding his attempts at kissing me and placing my hand over his mouth.

By the Thirteenth we were back working and Rod had started to get fidgety around me until things came to a head on the Thirtieth.

"Rod, are you alright, you've been awfully quiet today."

"I'm fine baby, actually, Kirby?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to be on Piper's Pit?"

"When?"

"Sunday, Yes or No?"

"This Sunday?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there's your answer."

"Wait, you'll do it."

"Of fucking course I'll do it. I don't give a fuck what Damien says."

He let out a chuckle as I pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"How's the Visa status going?"

"It's good, I'll hopefully be a US citizen before the end of May."

"So, May, you'll be a citizen, so," He mumbled to himself for a short while, "Alright, cool."

Before long it was time for me to be on Piper's Pit, fully expecting Roddy to do something and cause a ruckus to occur.

"Well, I'd just like you to know, it's a pleasure to have our first, female, guest on Piper's Pit. I want you to know that I asked every single female in the entire WWF if they would be on the Pit and only one of them said 'yes' to me. The only woman with enough guts to face me with 'Gluttony' herself, Kirby Lucifarian. Kirby, I would like to thank you for being brave enough to come out here and face me. I had Captain Lou on here last week and he said something vague about you and your sisters protecting Lauper. Why would a woman like you, someone who doesn't smoke, doesn't swear, doesn't drink, or shack up with skinny little idiots like Dave Wolff, Why would a great and accomplished female wrestler like you offer her protection to Lauper?"

"First of all, Piper, thank you for having me on here."

"My pleasure."

"Secondly, I was going to let you unmask me, but you showed support of Big John Studd, A man I greatly despise for his disrespect of both me and André."

"I am sorry for going back on that unspoken promise, Miss Lucifarian."

"Thank you for the apology, Roddy, Thirdly, may I say that I did not offer my services of protection to Miss Lauper, instead that was my father who told, Miss Lauper, that the D.O.D would protect her. Why on earth would a woman with an intelligence that rivals, yours for example, protect a girl like Cyndi Lauper?"

"I don't admire a lot of women, but you, I like you. I admire your intelligence, your ability to strike fear into the hearts of men with your words alone. I know that you have been searching for your next challenging opponent, and I for one don't wanna offer myself up, I just want to know how difficult it has been for the past few weeks going without a challenging enough opponent for your skill level?"

"Well, Piper, it's been tough, honestly, I think I may have scared everyone off. As someone who has previously been banned from women's competition, I find getting any support in the ring quite hard at times. I find your lack of fear quite charming, honest to the Lord above, you charm me, boyo."

"Thank you, you're a real sweetheart. Quick question, why do you call me 'boyo'?"

"Don't you call men 'lad' in Glasgow?"

"Oh, I see, anyway, before you go, one last thing."

I wasn't expecting this, the rest me and Rod had planned in advance, but not that line, he said he wasn't going to pull anything, he gave me his word.

Then, before I knew what was going on, he unbuckled my mask, pulling it down for a moment and kissed me square on the lips, in front of the cameras and the fans.

I tried to stand up and he dipped me down into the kiss, much to the enjoyment of the fans, who were hooting and hollering, obviously this doesn't happen much in the WWF.

Roddy kept his right hand intertwined with my ponytail and had his left arm around my back, supporting most of my waist as he brought me back up and helped me re-fix my mask into it's rightful spot.

After the show I tried to avoid Roddy for a couple minutes, trying to make sense of why he would do such a thing knowing full well we were not an 'out' couple or even an 'in' couple with the fans, sure the fans enjoying the moment was nice, but we were both heels, we were not supposed to do that off-screen, let alone on-screen and in front of a full crowd of fans.

I came to the decision to drop it for now and wait for Rod to hopefully explain his actions or somehow work it into a programme.

My mind started to wonder, maybe he would try to use that as blackmail against Damien, or even against me.

The D200's door opening and slamming shut caught me off guard, making me jump a little.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare ya."

"I'm fine, Roddy, just caught up in my thoughts, that's all."

"What were ya thinking about?"

"Nothing important, mainly just what happened earlier."

"Ya mean, me, Orndorff and Schultz winning the match?"

"No, Roderick, the kiss, we didn't plan that."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to clear that with ya, but Orndorff and Schultz said that it would get the fans interested."

"Hon."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, please clear everything we do in a promo or interview with me first, so I don't start wondering if you'll blackmail me."

"I would never blackmail ya, maybe Damien, but never you."

"I love you, ya hot-headed, kilt wearing idiot."

"I love you to, ya blonde, gothic, tattooed Ivory tower."

"Did you call me an 'Ivory tower'?"

"You're tall and pale, what d'ya want me to say?"

END OF THE SALEM HOUSE or THE SCOTTISH COTTAGE

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Nine

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Eight

Read here on wattpad

Word count: 4K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse

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PMRC DEMANDS CENSORSHIP, DEVELOPES A LIST OF THE "FILTHY 15."

1. Prince, "Darling Nikki", flagged for sex/masturbation

2. Sheena Easton, "Sugar Walls", flagged for sex

3. Judas Priest, "Eat Me Alive", flagged for Sex/Violence

4. Vanity, "Strap On Robbie Baby", flagged for sex

5. Mötley Crüe, "Bastard", flagged for violence/language

6. AC/DC, "Let Me Put My Love Into You", flagged for sex

7. Twisted Sister, "We're Not Gonna Take It", flagged for violence

8. Madonna, "Dress You Up", flagged for sex

9. W.A.S.P., "Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)", flagged for sex/language/violence

10. Def Leppard, "High 'n' Dry (Saturday Night)", flagged for drug/alcohol use

11. Mercyful Fate, "Into the Coven", flagged for occult themes

12. Black Sabbath, "Trashed", flagged for drug/alcohol use

13. Mary Jane Girls, "In My House", flagged for sex

14. Venom, "Possessed", flagged for occult themes

15. Cyndi Lauper, "She Bop", flagged for sex/masturbation

Tipper freaking Gore, the wife of the senator at the time, Al Gore, and bunch of other political housewives got their panties in a twist in 1985 and decided to demand artists either censor themselves when creating music, leaving no room for even the slightest hint at sex, drugs, alcohol, satanism, occultism, violence, language, or anything else almost every artist uses one of to express themselves in their music.

When musicians across the board practically told Tipper, the other wives, and everyone else that called themselves a member of the Parents Music Resource Center, to go fuck themselves, they decided to slap censorship stickers on records that contained any of the mentioned offenses.

Even John Denver got hit with censorship for his song "Rocky Mountain High."

It didn't shock me when my mother was photographed with Tipper after attending one of the hearings.

Mötley was invited to a hearing to defend their content and speak their opinions with a handful of others being censored, but they never batted an eye when the news first came out because they knew having an "X" or "XX" or "XXX" rating for violence, language, sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. would only make kids buy the record more. And it did.

"It's bullshit." I state, tossing the news paper article aside.

"It's politics." Fred replies taking a bite of his bagel.

"These womens' sex lives must be atrocious or else they'd be spending more time on their husbands' dicks and less time on these people's." I motion to the article with the list on it.

"Babe--"

"If these polotical lunatics spent as much energy taking care of their own damn kids, as they're spending attempting to villainize artists who're expressing themselves, they would realize that it's not Mötley Crüe's or anyone else's job to raise their children. If you're so scared of your kids trying all this stuff, have a conversation with them about it and tell them about it, honestly, instead of relying on the music they listen to, to properly teach them about it. And at the end of the day, they're gonna buy the record whether their parents want them to or not, and they're going to try all kinds of stuff, no matter who talks to them about it, if they really want to try it." I continue my rant, Fred, Doc, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick all looking at me, waiting for me to be done.

"Are you done, Sister Christian?" Vince asks me and I glare at him.

"Viv, it's publicity. Who gives a fuck?" Nikki asks me. "The kids are gonna go for the nastiest rated album anyway. The more 'X's the better."

"Yeah, but the audacity of--" Tommy's teaching his hand around my shoulder and covering my mouth before I can continue and I look at him where he's beside me.

"I've got a headache. I'm hungover, Viv. I love you, but I don't need to hear a Vivian Bitch Fit right now." Tommy explains to me.

I just look at him like he's lost his mind for shutting me up, and he cautiously moves his hand away.

I give him a ten second reprieve before shouting, at the top of my lungs:

"The audacity of these people pisses me off!" I finish what I was going to say and Tommy and Nikki are both jumping out of their seats a little at the sudden shouting, covering their ears, wincing, before Nikki's looking at me, sharply.

I roll my eyes at him and he grabs roughly at my thigh under the table, uncomfortably sinking the tips of his fingers into my flesh.

Ignoring him, I take a sip of my coffee, as he glances around and stands up.

"I gotta piss." He tells us, but I know why he's going to the bathroom.

I wait for him to disappear past the "Men's Room" sign in the Denny's before I get up and follow after him.

I walk in, catching the tail end of him snorting a line, and I cross my arms, waiting outside of the stall he's in.

I hear the familiar "click" of a needle being uncapped.

"Nikki. It's 10:00 in the morning." I tell him.

"Fuck off."

"Nikki."

"Fuck off."

"Nikk--"

"Fuck off."

"Make me."

I wait for him to come out of the stall and do what I dared him to, but I just hear the sound of him sighing out in relief as opiate hits his system, drowning out whatever argument we were about to get into.

When he didn't want to hear me complain or try to talk him out of stuff, he would run to his favorite room in his mind: his heroin den.

If we were at home, he'd lock himself in the closet, with me begging him to come out.

He'd open the door for me right before passing out so he could at least say he tried.

If we were in public or at a hotel, he'd lock himself in the bathroom and do the same thing.

The sound of vomit smattering the floor has me wincing as he mumbles "fuck it" and opens the stall door, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't fuckin' give me that hit dog look." He tells me, moving past me to the sink, splashing some water on his face, smearing his already smeared eyeliner that makes him look like a raccoon that's been digging around in a dumpster.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look." I mumble, forcing him to look at me as I wet a paper towel and wipe his black-coated eyelids clean.

The smell of his vomit infiltrates my nostrils and I throw the paper towel away before pulling at his wrist to leave. 

Being that he's perfected his magical potion, he isn't too jittery from the coke or nodding off from the heroin.

He's just quiet.

We leave Denny's and head straight to the airport to head back home, being they wrapped up the last show of the U.S. tour last night.

Next is Europe.

Once we land in L.A., Christmas music blares through the speakers of the airport and reminds me that it's already nearing the end of December.

Apparently Vince is reading my mind because he mumbles, "apparently time flies when you're in hell."

Amen, Vince. A-fucking-men.

The second Nikki and I get into the limo to take us to our house, he's busting out a vile of blow that's nearly empty.

"Fuck, I gotta get Jason over, asap." He tells himself and I rub my lips together.

"You know, we haven't even bought a Christmas tree since we've been married." I tell him, trying to distract myself from his previous comment.

"Yeah." He says, basically blowing me off and I reach the toe of my sneaker out and nudge him on the kneecap as he gets the tip of our house key and scoops some from the bindle, snorting a bump.

"Babe." I continue to tap his kneecap until he's got his hand around my ankle, loosely, stopping me.

"What, Viv?"

"What did I just say?" I ask him, crossing my arms.

He just blinks at me, smirking a little.

"I'll gladly tell you when I finish this." He holds the bindle up.

I lean forward and take it from him, holding it hostage when he attempts to take it.

"You'll get it back when I get a Christmas tree." I tell him, raising my brows.

"Are you fucking me right now?" He asks, chuckling, not thinking I'm serious.

"No...but now that you mention it, I want that, too. Then you can get it back." I add and he smirks.

By the time we get to a department store, get my clothes back on and his pants zipped back up, grab an artificial tree, lights and ornaments, and finally get to the house, it's nearly one in the morning.

"Okay, Saint Vivian, gimme my shit back." Nikki states, carrying the boxed up tree while I carry the bags of lights and ornaments.

"Put the tree up so I can decorate it and I will." I reply.

"That wasn't apart of the deal." He argues, his tone still light.

"Well now it is." I reply.

"That's cheating."

"I made the deal. I make the rules." I shrug.

"You're making me work for something that's already mine." His free hand pulls at my waist, turning me to him and I grin mischievously as he shakes his head a little. "That's it, Sixx." He tells me before crouching enough to wrap his arm around my thighs and throw me over his shoulder.

I laugh manically, partially out of fear that he'll drop me, but also because this is the Nikki I fell in love with.

Playful, lighthearted, aggravating but meaning well, Nikki.

He manages to dig his house key out again and unlock the door before stepping in and turning on the lights in the foyer.

"Baby, put the bags down for now." He tells me and I drop them as carefully as I can while he puts the box the tree is in, down.

He's walking us to the living room, laughing when he pretends to trip and I gasp, digging my nails into him like a cat holding onto its owner to avoid a bathtub full of water.

When he flips the next light on, he stops immediately.

My mind is in shambles for a moment as I try to put together why so many people are in my house once Nikki's nearly dropping me out of shock, not even hearing them all scream out, "surprise!"

Steven and Tansy are at the forefront of people as the explosion of glitter, a mixture of neon and pastel decor, an abundance of various alcohol options, scantily clad women, a handful of Nikki's friends he hangs out with outside of Mötley Crüe, and a big ass, two-tier cake with every curse word known to man written in pristine is cursive font on the sides of it is soaked in by mine and Nikki's eyes.

Steven's wearing a beer hat, smiling widely, while Tansy looks like a sallow Barbie doll, but she's still forcing out a grin for the sake of us, and everyone's waiting for mine and Nikki's reactions.

Nikki and I exchange looks, confused as ever.

"Why is it a surprise?" I finally ask, deciding it's best if I ask instead of Nikki, because all he wanted to do was come in, shoot up, have a few lines, fuck around with me some more, and pass out.

But instead he's being forced to socialize in his own house.

His safe place has been infested.

Steven and Tansy seem horrified that we don't understand the reason for the apparent party.

"...Because it's your birthday?" Tansy reminds me.

"And Nikki's was a couple weeks ago, but he wasn't here to celebrate it." Steven adds, his smile is long gone, his eyes focused on Nikki who looks like he could kill someone right now.

"Oh, right!" I pretend that I know that it's my birthday today, and everyone seems to let out a breath of relief. "It's been a long day." I explain, stepping to the two blondes, hugging them both tightly. "Thank you so much."

While everyone else starts going on with the party, music starting to blare throughout the house on the stereo speakers, cracking open beer, whiskey, and vodka, as girls strip down to bikinis to go swimming, Nikki's still standing at the door, the look on his face is a mixture or pissed off, disappointed, and "I need another dose."

"Babe." I say gently to grab his attention, hazel eyes looking to me as a jaw tightens. "C'mon, just for a couple hours."

"I'll be right back." He tells me, shoving through people to get to our bedroom.

I brush off his attitude the second I feel hands on my shoulders, squeezing them a little and I snap around to meet Duff's chest.

"Hey, birthday girl." He greets me cooly, and I'm hugging him before I can stop myself.

Something wet falls on my hand when I pull away, and just as I'm about to look around for whatever it was, his fingers that are sticking out of leather gloves that just cover his palms, are brushing at my face.

"What's up?" He asks me, furrowing his brows a little.

What is up? Why the hell are you crying?

"I-I'm happy." Is all I can say, chuckling, wiping more tears.

He knew it was bullshit. I was happy, sure. Happy to get the fuck off the road. Happy to get a break from Nikki and Tommy harassing Vince. Happy to get away from Doc's constant pressing for more tour dates to milk as much money as possible. Happy to be able to hangout with balls of optimism and sunshine like Duff and Steven and have Slash show me his pet snakes like he'd been meaning to, and for Izzy to tell me what music I should have been listening to, and for Axl to go on and on about Tansy but then completely deny he was interested in her because he was too much of a dork to just ask her out.

"I'll be right back, alright?" I tell Duff, looking around to see Nikki's nowhere to be seen.

"Okay." He tells me, swigging from a bottle of vodka.

I thread through people who tell me "happy birthday" and I thank each of them, genuinely, before opening up the bedroom door, and shutting it behind me, stepping to our bathroom.

"Baby?" I ask, seeing Nikki standing at the mirror, teasing his hair some more. "I had no idea they would do this." I tell him.

"I had no fucking idea it was even your birthday, apparently." He grumbles. "Shows how much I care, right? Husband of the year. Something else to be hung over my head anytime we get into a fight." 

"Hey, I didn't even know it was my birthday. The guys didn't either. You've all been busy and working hard and tired. I'm not going to hold this over you, Nikki." I assure him, fixing a piece of his hair for him.

I didn't realize his pride was so hurt by the gesture Steven and Tansy made.

I found out later it was Duff who brought up the idea to Tansy, who recruited the Ken to her Barbie: Steven, to help her orchestrate it.

That was another indication to Nikki that he needed to slow down, forgetting his own wife's birthday, but he didn't listen to it a bit.

"I really don't want to do this shit, Vivian." He tells me, rubbing his eyes.

"And I do?"

"They're your friends." He sighs.

"What's mine is your's." I say as I kiss his cheek and he groans.

"You owe me." He tells me as I step out of the bathroom. "Matter of fact, I want my coke back."

"Um, I can't hear you, babe. I'm sure I will when these people leave." I tell him.

"Viv--"

"I-I think you're breaking up, I'll talk to you later." I keep going, walking to the bedroom door.

"I'll break something up when these people get the fuck outta my house!" He calls back and I shut the door behind me.

The night goes on as people play beer pong on the dining room table, dance on whatever and whoever they can, snort lines off any flat surface available, and chug whatever is in their cups, drowning pain and becoming oblivious.

I hate to break it to Nikki, but I don't want these people driving in their condition, so they'll have to stay here tonight or call cabs.

After a few hours, people are either pairing off or grouping off to go get laid, passed out, or too high to function properly and are just chilling out.

Steven's observing his work, drinking from his beer cans perched in his hat when I approach him, looking for Duff.

"Have you seen Duff?" I say over the music and he nods.

"Yeah, I think he's by the pool." He tells me.

"The pool?"

"Yep."

I furrow my brows, stepping to the French doors leading outside, seeing Duff and Tansy sitting down on the pool deck, talking

"Is he pissed?" She asks me, referring to Nikki, after I sit next to her.

"I would say go see for yourself but I don't want to toss you into the lion's den." I admit. "He hasn't come out all night."

"I'll go talk to him." She says. "If he's mean to me I'll just cry and make him feel bad like I do to Vince."

Duff and I exchange looks at her confident words before she's walking away in her neon pink bikini.

"Everyone calming down?" Duff asks in a slur, and I nod, glancing through the doors to look at the guests for a few seconds. "How does it feel to be twenty-two?" He adds, rubbing his nose and I raise my brows a little, glancing at the bottle of vodka he's been working on all night.

"It's weird." I mumble. "I was a senior in high school five years ago." The reality hits me and he raises his brows. "God, I'm old."

"You were seventeen your senior year?"

"In pre-k my teacher decided I was too smart for the class and vouched for me to be moved up to kindergarten, and it didn't take my kindergarten teacher long to convince the principle of the elementary school to let me start in the first grade since they hadn't really started in on their curriculum for the year." I explain.

"I couldn't even meet the basic requirements of alternative school." He tells me.

"You're a freaking genius, you just didn't apply yourself." I tell him and he shrugs.

"I had more important things to get done.

"I guess you did." I agree, gently scoring the bottle of alcohol away from him.

"I know you're tired of me saying this, but, Viv, you gotta get back to dancing."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah. I mean, imagine me giving up music for someone I'm in a relationship with so I can hold their hand or fucking babysit them or whatever. I mean, sure it shows I love them a lot, but it would just make who ever I was with look like a fucking bitch. And I've talked to Nikki before and he told me he didn't want you to quit dance and he wanted you to go to school." He explains. "Why didn't you?"

"I had more important things to get done." I repeat him.

"I don't know if you're selfless sometimes, or just not thinking." He says, before his face suddenly falls. "I sound like an asshole right now, I'm sorry." He apologizes and I shake my head.

"I'm not upset, I know what you mean." I assure him.

"Okay." He rubs his eyes again like a sleepy child.

"Do you need me to help you to bed?" I offer and he waves his hand at me a couple times.

"No, no, I got it." He assures me, standing up.

He nearly falls over.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." I comment, helping him inside as he apologizes.

"I'm sorry I'm being out of hand right now, Viv, I don't get like this every night." He tells me as I open our guest bedroom and thank God nobody's in here, although it's obvious someone has been screwed to oblivion on the bed.

I just throw the blanket on the edge of the bed over the mattress and help him lay down.

"Thank you." He says as I pull his boots off and set them nice and neat on the floor at the foot of his bed.

"You're welcome." I reply, setting the garbage can beside him incase he needs it. "Goodnight."

I'm about to leave, but his hand gently grasps at my hand, stopping me.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"I'm really glad we met and we're friends, Viv." He tells me, grasping my hand in his like I'm going to walk out anyway and not listen to what he's got to say.

"I am, too, Duff." I say back, smiling a little. "Sleep tight, okay?"

"Yeah." He nods his head.

"Alright, goodnight."

I go to kiss him "goodnight" on the cheek, but my entire system and body locks up the second he misreads my intentions, and kisses me.

This sounds so counteractive to who I am now and what I stand for currently, and it was ignorant of me to think such a way back then, when so many people close to me were heavily affected, some of them even dying, by drugs and alcohol...but I use to wish I liked alcohol or drugs, or even felt drawn to them.

By '87 I'd had several miscarriages, my marriage was hanging by a thread after only being married for four years, I was having an identity crisis and my entire world was seeming to fall apart and it became routine to buy a bottle of vodka or whiskey, or pills, or blow and just stare at it--trying to convince myself to go for it--for an hour before pouring it out or flushing it.

The people around me, which by that point was mainly Duff and his band, started to pick up on this struggle I had. And although they knew I had to be in some kind of extreme pain to be considering reaching such lows, they carried an "if you don't laugh about it, you'll cry" method of pulling me out of such spells.

Anytime we would be hanging out and I'd opt to try something they were doing, they would call it the "Golden Question Game" because the "Golden Question" was always "is Vivian actually gonna do it this time?" and they wouldn't argue with me about it or try to stop me because they knew the answer would always be "no" even if I didn't think it would be.

I even made the reckless suggestion to try heroin, and got as far as Izzy getting it in the syringe for me, trying to explain to me how to shoot it, how to angle it, how to know I'd hit a vein, with Steven, Slash and Duff all waiting to see if I was that desperate for an escape.

Like everything else I would think about doing, I just sat on the floor next to Izzy and stared at the golden liquid in the syringe and thought, "who the fuck are you to get pissed and angry at Nikki and Tansy for their addiction to this shit, and how it's destroying them, and then turn around and do it yourself?"

I shot it into the air away from me, handed the empty syringe back Izzy, thanked him for letting me waste his time and dose of smack, went to the bathroom with Duff at my heels, and cried.

I never went through with any of it because I knew I would never, ever, come back from it.

I would've drank myself to death or drugged myself past the point of no return and would have ended up a statistic.

I just needed a new escape because my original high became a heroin addict, and December 23, 1985, had me realizing more about Duff than what I had noticed before: Vodka was a hell of a lot easier to be around than heroin.