#before they shut down and you're staring at your ceiling on drugs for hours on end every week

[narcopathyfiles]

genuinely i need people to understand not only that it's not "fun" to be this way but also like. profoundly uninteresting. it does not make you special or smarter or more charismatic. we are not less likely to get hurt in relationships and we are not automatically good at manipulation just because of the disorders themselves. we just all hate admitting this kinda stuff

No offense but what's with the influx of teenagers in aspd/npd tags. 16 and over is understandable but if there's over a year and some until your high school graduation this is not the place for you 😭 don't let your brain settle you into this life while you still can help it

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

First Encounter

Life had a funny way of happening sometimes. One moment you're crying in your best friend's arms, the next his lips are on yours and you're kissing him back like your life depends on it. And then everything comes to a standstill, and a week later neither of you can even look at each other. Over a stupid kiss. And your roommates and friends can feel the tension. See it. So much so that they all have mentioned it.

Quinn sighed, reaching across her bed for her phone. A week of sleeping, or rather not, in her own bed. Just a solid week of staring at the ceiling every night for hours on end. One week of Noah hiding in his room, not answering the door for her. Seven days of his bedroom door staying locked. Of hearing it creak open as she lay in her bed, wide awake, listening as he crept downstairs. An entire week of him avoiding her at all costs. Unanswered texts. Calls going straight to voicemail. No answering her knock on his door. Nobody joining her in the bathroom while she showered. He was just gone. And how was that fair? He had kissed her!

Her text from four hours ago had been read. No response. Just read. All that talk about how she deserved better and one stupid fucking kiss had him completely ghosting her? While she actively lived with him?! The fucking bastard.

Everything in her went cold. Leaving her phone on her bed she carefully climbed out of bed, avoiding the spots on her floor that creaked. He wanted to be a dick? Well, he could deal with the consequences instead of hiding.

With bated breath she tiptoed out of her room and across the hall. Slowly, carefully, she pressed her ear against his bedroom door, listening for signs of life. The faint sound of a movie starting reached her ears and she smiled. Caught him. With no hesitation she knocked, calling his name softly. No answer.

Frustrated she knocked and called his name louder. Still no answer. She knew it would be locked but she had to try anyway. The knob didn't turn. She wished she could blame rage for what she was about to do, but it was just hurt. He was the one person who never left. Never abandoned her. Always reminded her that life was worth living. And now he was acting like she didn't exist? After something he had initiated? That hurt more than anything.

"Noah!" She yelled, banging on his door. "I can fucking hear you! Answer me or I'm kicking the goddamn door down! You don't get to do this, too!"

Nicholas's door creaked open at the end of the hall, followed quickly by Noah yanking his bedroom door open and hauling her inside before he slammed it closed and locked it again. One look at him and she felt somewhat guilty. He looked like he'd barely slept, if at all.

"What the fuck, Quinn?!"

"You're seriously acting like I'm wrong here?! YOU kissed ME. And yes, I kissed you back! What the fuck of it?! It was a kiss, Noah!"

His large hand covered her mouth as he drug her over to his bed. Why in the fuck was he acting so paranoid? Quinn pushed him away, making a show of keeping her mouth shut as she sat on the edge of his bed. He wanted to play? She could play.

"Quinn. People are fucking sleeping. What the fuck?"

Noah dropped to his knees in front of her, his eyes pleading with her. For what she didn't know. But she watched as he repeatedly started to reach for her, then draw back. Noah had never been scared of touching her before. This was weird. Even for him.

"Seriously, Noah? You kiss me and then act like I don't exist? After telling me I deserve better? And then you go and act just like them? The fucking audacity!" She was yelling again. She didn't care.

Quinn watched as he drug his on hand down his face, rubbing his mouth. He was frustrated. Good. He deserved to be frustrated after this shit. Who did this over a stupid kiss? It wasn't like it had gone any further and crossed major friendship lines. Was she that fucked up that even a kiss was too much?

"Noah," she begged, her resolve breaking. "You're my best friend. It was just a fucking kiss. Please." Her voice shook, breath coming in short spurts. "I'm sorry I kissed you back? I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you this mad at me. I'm fucking sorry, Noah."

She completely dissolved. Clearly she had done something wrong. But what the fuck had she done?

"Quinn..."

"What did I do, Noah?!"

"Exist."

And then his lips crashed into hers, desperate. Pleading. She couldn't help but respond in kind, her fingers threading through his hair. Pulling him closer and closer still. They were all desperation and teeth and tongues, fighting for dominance. Just two people finally acting on the feelings they had always known were there. Desperate to be as close as possible, yet desperate to just consume each other.

Noah fisted his hand in her hair, the other gently caressing her cheek, his thumb resting just on the corner of her lips as he tugged, tipping her head back, gaining more access as her lips parted on a soft gasp. His tongue delved into her mouth, hungry, but gentle. Tasting every part of her. Memorizing every movement that made her moan. His free hand traveled slowly south, fingertips tracing over her throat, over her collarbone, hesitating at the swell of her breast.

Quinn tore her mouth from his, frustrated. Here he was, finally touching her, and he was stopping?

"Noah. I swear to fucking God," she pleaded.

"What do you want, baby?"

His eyes locked on hers and she saw everything there. Everything he had been fighting the last week. All the things he had been avoiding. This moment here. He wanted her. And he wanted her desperately. Just as much as she wanted him.

"Touch me," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

He broke then, his mouth attacking her throat, biting and licking and sucking. And she was helpless against him. They tumbled back on the bed together, pressure already building deep within her. His free hand quickly slid down, much further down than she anticipated or needed, resting on her bare inner thigh. His fingertips danced across her skin, tracing lazy patterns.

"Noah," she begged, pressing her body against his, feeling herself grow impossibly wetter by the second.

He didn't make her beg anymore. Deft fingers shoved her panties aside, a single digit rubbing lazy circles on her clit. The pressure deep inside her quickly turned into a tight band, ready to snap. She was so close already that she nearly panicked. It had never been this intense before, and he wasn't even inside her yet.

"Fuck," he groaned, slipping a single finger inside her. "You're so fucking wet. Jesus Christ, Quinn."

Everything was on fire. Her skin. Her lungs. One of those long fingers she'd admired for years was deep inside her, stroking her in just the right spot as it pumped in and out of her. And just when she thought it couldn't get any better he slipped another finger inside her, and she swore she blacked out for a second as he curled his fingers inside of her, applying more pressure to that spot deep inside her, his palm rubbing against her clit as he worked her with his fingers.

"You're close, aren't you?"

All she could do was moan desperately in response, her hips writhing against his hand. That band was growing tighter and tighter, and she was desperate for release from the pressure low in her belly. His forehead dropped to hers, holding her gaze, his pupils blown so wide with lust his eyes almost appeared black.

"Noah!" she called out his name as that band snapped, her hips stuttering as she clamped down around his fingers, her orgasm tearing through her.

"That's it, baby. There you go. That's my girl," he praised as her orgasm peaked, talking her through it, his fingers still pumping in and out of her, massaging her through it.

Dazed she watched as he pulled his fingers out of her, bringing them up to his lips. She watched, her heart leaping out of her chest as he sucked every drop of her off his fingers, eyes never leaving hers.

"Goddamn it, Quinn. You taste even better than I imagined."

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[leakyweep]

Eustass Kid x Reader; Baby

A/N; GERMANY I always love your ideas and this was so much fun to write!! Also sorry for the corny argument I really couldn't think of anything else lmao

Words; 2.0k

Warnings: afab reader, masturbation, a little sub Kid hehe, overstim, penetration, degrading, please let me know if I missed anything :) minors DNI

Kid sighed, grumbling curses under his breath as he pulled his comforter over himself. He wasn't joining you in your cabin on the ship tonight; opting to stay in his own room after your argument with the red-haired menace.

"Kid, it wasn't anything like you're thinking. I fell!" You turned to your boyfriend, a furrow on your brows. "He caught me. Are you really jealous of your best friend, right now?"

Kid's face was comparable to the color of his hair; maroon and heated. He had walked into the kitchen, witnessing you in the arms of Killer. You had tripped, and he had caught you in quite a precarious position. You wanted to smack Kid across the head for even thinking anything like that, but you knew his temper was worse his listening skills.

"It fucking looked like he was enjoying it-his hands in places only my hands should be," he said, a sneer tearing at his lips. He couldn't help his possessiveness; it was a defense mechanism, a front for his fear of you leaving him because of who he was. How deviant and dangerous he could be. You knew his words were just uttered out of emotion, but you couldn't help but look at him incredulously.

You turned to his door, your arms crossed. Before exiting, you looked over your shoulder. "If you really believe that, you must be a self-righteous bastard. Killer would never do such a thing to you. And neither would I." You spat the words, insulted that he would think that of either you or his best friend. Before he could respond, you shut the door and retreated to your own cabin.

Now here he was, tossing and turning at the lack of your presence. He had always fallen asleep so easily with you; whether it be after an intense fuck that had both of you passed out naked before you could clean up, or after venting to each other and silently falling into your dreamlands in each other's embrace.

Now, it had been a few hours since he spoke to you, and he had actively ignored the gentle rapping on his cabin door about an hour ago. He didn't want to face you, and you knew that.

He knew better than to seek you out, especially after he cleared his head and realized he was wrong. He'd never admit that; but you also knew that. You just understand him so well, no matter how much he denied it. So, he suffered in silence, staring up at the ceiling, out the window, to your panties lying on the floor...

He was so frustrated, so tired after his emotions flared up, and he just needed to get his mind off things; so he grabbed the lacy fabric, raising it to his nose and sniffing your essence from them. It was like drugs to him, feeling as if your scent consumed every one of his nerve endings.

He reached to pull down his boxers, his dick still soft. He closed his eyes, imagining the night you had worn these panties, the teasing way you bent over to drag them down your soft legs...

He palmed himself until his hardness was aching and his tip was swollen, and he covered his cock with your panties. He started to pump himself gently, groaning at the feeling of the scratchy fabric dragging down the underside of his length. A bead of precum oozed from his slit, swiping against the panties and covering his cock in a slight lube for the time being.

The sound of your moans from his memory filled every corner of his brain, the gentle sound making him grunt your name as his hips bucked up into your undies, and his thoughts were no where near the argument from before, his pupils blowing with desire as he stared at the lace covering himself.

"Shit..." he rasped, his eyelids drooping back down. His hand engulfed his shaft as he worked himself faster, stopping at the tip for only a moment before continuing his fist down. His balls were slapping up and down in time with his movements deliciously; and he didn't even notice as you stepped into the room as he was lost in the naughty fantasy going on in his head.

He only knew of your presence when your palms snaked around his thighs, jolting him back to reality with a quick gasp. Your eyes half-lidded and your lips turned upwards in a lustful grin, you couldn't help but take his panty-covered cock in your own palm, beginning to pump him a lot more gently than he had been with himself.

"Aw, my baby didn't wanna admit he was wrong, so he decided to use my panties to get off?" You chuckled, shaking your head, "You're such a perv."

His length bobbed at the contact of your hand and the nature of your words, his neck snapping to turn away from you. His cheeks were turning red, and he was embarrassed you had caught him panty-handed.

"What the hell are- nngh- are you doin' here?" He asked through gritted teeth, trying not to think about the way your hand was squeezing his shaft delightfully.

"Well," you started, reaching two fingers to his chin to turn his head back to you, "I'd rather fuck than stare at the ceiling and count sheep to be honest." You smiled at the way his face was flushed, how his fingers were bunching parts of the sheet, and you knew that you had your boyfriend like putty in your hands.

"Yeah? I thought you said I was a bastard?" He asked boldly, like you weren't controlling his pleasure. You stopped the movement of your hand, noticing how his hips bucked up ever so slightly. He tried to keep his face steady, but you also noticed the slight strain in his features.

"I can still think you're a bastard and fuck you," you whispered, your tone sultry. You discarded your clothing to the floor, motioning to Kid's pants pooled around his knees. "Take those off."

Usually, he'd scoff and fuck you senseless for even thinking you could tell him what to do; but he knew better than that right now. You were right and he was wrong, so who was he to deny you this? Even a deviant such as him couldn't deny that line of thinking. He kicked the trousers the rest of the way down, forgetting them at the end of the bed, your figure straddling his lap much more important in this moment.

"Finish what you started, baby. I'll wait right here for you to cum, and then I'll reward you. Sound good, love?" You said, your voice twinged with lust-filled sweetness. Your eyebrows were set downwards, your tongue rolling over your bottom lip as you watched your boyfriend cut his eyes.

"Babe-"

"Kid. Now." Your voice was stern, and he knew then that there was no argument here; he was going to finish and you were going to watch. He felt a lump form in his throat and he found himself suddenly unable to speak. Your eyes were fiery, bold, and his wrist seemed to almost move to his dick and start pumping on its own, as if you were controlling him like a puppet.

He worked himself, squeezing as his palm moved downwards before pausing at the base and moving back up quickly. Your stare never left his cock, as if you were a cat ready to pounce. Your eyes half-lidded, your tongue darting across your bottom lip every time his balls bobbed in time with his wrist, your breasts squished against the bed as you laid on your stomach to watch him intently... it was making him so hard it hurt. Every ounce of blood in his body was seemingly drained into his dick by your presence, just the thought of you watching him make himself cum all over his own stomach while thinking of you, while you were right there, was driving Kid mad.

He let out a pitiful grunt, his hand tightening and his pace quickening. "Fuuuck-" his voice was strangled, as if it were taking every ounce of energy to fuck himself into his hand and not your mouth that was right there, "You fuckin' enjoying this, slut? The way- shit- the way I get off just thinkin' about that tight little pussy? Can't wait to shove my cock in you- mm-"

His body jerked, thick spurts of white cum staining his abdomen and stomach. His hand was squeezing the life out of his cock, his head tilted upwards to moan wantonly into the air, like music to your ears.

You hummed gently, your hands slowly snaking their way up his thighs and to his lats to hold his torso down, suddenly mounting his lap after he was fresh out of an orgasm. He barely had time to gasp before you were smothering his sensitive cock with your aching pussy.

"Wha- mmph! D-damn, fuck-!" he couldn't even fathom a word that wasn't a curse as his overstimulated cock twitched inside your pussy, making you mewl gently. You began to gyrate your hips, your mound connected to his abdomen still as you relished in the way his swollen, tender head rested at the edge of your cervix. Your hands were planted against his chest, his own fingers reaching up to grip your wrists.

"Don't complain about your reward, baby," you cooed, sweat beginning to bead at your forehead. You swiveled your hips on his cock, spelling out your name with a smile. He felt it; and he matched your grin as his teeth caught his bottom lip. "Doesn't it feel so good, so sensitive and- aahh!"

Your dirty words were cut off by Kid, who had stilled your hips with his arm, fucking up into your squelching cunt quickly and mercilessly now that his dick didn't feel sensitive as all hell. Breathy moans and rough growls, squishing sounds of your pussy and slapping noises of your hips bouncing on his lap, none of the most sinful noises were absent as Kid fucked up into you with vigor and pride.

He had let you take the reins for a moment; but he needed to be in control now.

"Reward? Slut, you are my reward. Now, shut up and take my fucking cock." His hips met yours with reckless abandon, determined to make you forget the argument from before. It was definitely working.

The bed creaking ceased as you slammed your hips down, your pulsing walls choking his length and head and sucking him into your orgasm. A shuddering shriek of Kid's name and something that sounded like "coming" spilled from your lips, your juices coating his cock and abs, mingling with the dry cum from his previous meat-beating. Your body was twitching and goosebumps painted your skin, every single last nerve in your body taken over by pleasure at the feeling of Kid's cock jammed into your g-spot.

Kid wasn't far behind, painting your inner walls with his spend, his mouth full of curses and filthy calls of your name. They were shouted out into the heated air, uncaring for what poor soul walking around above deck would hear.

You stayed positioned on his cock, cum dripping from your stretched entrance, leaking onto Kid's balls. You dropped your head to rest on his shoulder, panting and trying to catch your breath. Your hair was sticking to the sweat of your temples and forehead, and Kid reached down to move the strands and kiss your face. It was hot and sweaty, but he didn't seem to mind as he was covered in a mixture of both of your fluids.

"So... was that your apology for being wrong?" you asked with a chuckle, gazing up at him with an adoring gaze.

He just chuffed, "Tcch, sure. If that's what you wanna call that." He rolled his eyes, the blush dusting his cheeks only a little noticeable. You kissed the skin where his neck met his shoulder, running your tongue around the marks you hadn't even recalled making during the intense debauchery.

"A win is a win, baby!" you laughed, doing a little victory dance. You had forgotten you were still impaled on his hardness, and the way you wiggled on his cock made the head brush against your swollen sweet spot, making you squeak. Kid laughed.

"That's what you get!"

[achaotichuman]

Ya'll remember the Dahlia fic I posted like three hours ago?

I hope you do because here is chapter 2

Link to part 1 is here.

@fell-in-luvs, @r-biter, @praetorqueenreyna

A Field of Dahlias

When he awoke, someone was pressing a damp washcloth to his forehead. Slowly, he blinked open his eyes. Vision blurry and everything was sore. 

Finally, he recognised the person above him as Alis. The female noticed him waking up and inhaled quickly before letting the washcloth rest on his head, taking his hands in hers. 

She called over her shoulder, "Tell Lucien he's awake."

There was the sound of a book snapping shut as a person got up from the emerald chair in the corner of his room. Tamlin tried to lift his head to get a clue of who was sitting there, but he only managed a glimpse of pale robes before Alis pushed him back down. 

"Where is Lucien?" Tamlin asked. His voice sore, barely above a whisper. 

"Speaking with some courtiers, nothing to worry over." Her hands moved to hair and began to plait so as to keep her fingers busy. 

"What happened?" He asked. 

Alis still for a moment, then she said, "You're magic exploded, your study was the only thing affected."

"My magic exploded?" Tamlin asked, his voice even smaller. 

"Yes."

"But..." I'm not supposed to use my magic, and for it to have exploded like that. 

Oh no. 

Oh god no. 

At that moment Lucien walked in. 

The red head was beside the bed in seconds. A hand went to Tamlin's shoulder, "Hey, you're up."

"Yeah." Tamlin replied. 

"Still weak, but awake." Alis said, taking away the washcloth from his head and sliding off the bed. 

"How are you feeling?" Lucien asked. 

"Awful." Tamlin snapped.

Lucien gave him a soft smile that didn't reach his worried eyes, "Figures."

"Here." Alis said, and she helped him to slowly sit up. 

The second he was upright, all the blood in his brain rushed out. Dizziness overtook and his face went frightfully pale. 

Alis reacted faster than Lucien and grabbed a bucket beside the bed. 

Tamlin vomited until he was dry heaving. Alis' rough hands pulled back his hair and Lucien immediately moved to rub his back. Tamlin however pushed him back. 

When his body finally relented, Tamlin slumped back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. 

Alis took the mess away with a murmur that she would be back soon. Lucien nodded to her while Tamlin closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. 

When the door clicked shut, Lucien broke the silence, "Well this has been a hectic day."

"You think." Tamlin rasped. 

"Yeah I do. And I think it has been made worse by the fact we have not addressed all that need addressing."

"Lucien-" Tamlin groaned. 

"No, if you won't talk about it Tamlin, then I will. Like it or not, you are pregnant, it is Feyre's. Feyre is now the God's know where in Night with that monster-"

Feyre in that fabric that couldn't be called clothes. In Rhysand's grasp. Painted and being touched while drugged flashed through his mind. 

"Feyre-!" Tamlin shot up and wen to rush out of bed. 

Lucien grabbed and pulled him right back, "Enough, Tamlin!"

"But she-" Tamlin would bite him if he needed to. 

"She is Night because of a bargain she made when she was warned not to."

"He coerced her into it." Tamlin seethed, he knew, Feyre had said when he quested the bargain mark. How Rhysand had twisted her arm when she initially refused it. 

"I know." Lucien said, worry shining in his eyes, "But it is still bargain magic and until the week is up, we won't know where she is."

"If," Tamlin's voice was like thunder, "She is still there a second after the seventh day ends, I am storming the Night Court."

"I don't doubt it." Lucien murmured, "In the meantime, we have another issue."

Just like that, the fear writhed in him again, "My magic exploded-"

"Heilda gave you a check over whilst you slept. We got lucky."

Mother above, he nearly thanked the Gods. 

"But-" Lucien said sternly. 

Tamlin already knew what he was going to say. 

"She doesn't just recommend female because its more comfortable, it's also safer Tamlin. So-" 

"I know." Tamlin whispered. 

Lucien's hand travelled along the soft sheets, then gently covered Tamlin's. 

"This is shitty." Lucien said. 

Tamlin huffed a laugh, "Yeah."

A heartbeat of silence passed and Lucien eventually asked, "Do you want to try shifting?"

Tamlin sighed, "Yeah."

"Okay do you need me to leave-?"

In a second his clothes were ever so slightly baggier around his waist. The fabric around his chest constricted and his jaw became just slightly less defined. Small changes, but enough to mark him as something else. 

Thank Gods for him that he retained most of his muscles. Eyes, wider now, looked up to Lucien. 

The Fox was blushing furiously and it made Tamlin bite his lip not to laugh. 

"How- you-"

Tamlin shrugged, "I base it off what my body already looks like."

"Mhm." Lucien's cheeks were flushed a rosy red, "I didn't realise it was so easy."

Tamlin laughed, voice with a slightly higher pitch. Toned differently enough for anyone to notice a change, "It doesn't sound like it would be."

"No it doesn't." Lucien murmured, then he cleared his throat. 

Tamlin picked at the buttons of his shirt, pulling too tight to be comfortable. Lucien noticed and quickly asked, "Do you want a different set of clothes."

Tamlin was still in the clothes he would have been married in. Jacket and waistcoat gone. But still in his trousers and white shirt. His heart throbbed. 

"Yeah."

Lucien nodded but before he could leave the bed, there was a rapping against the door. 

"Come in!" Tamlin called out. 

"Just as I thought." A female said as she opened the door, "Different voice means you've already shifted?"

Ianthe peeked through the crack in the door, not stepping through the threshold. One of her vows of purity. To not step under the roof of a room with only a male. 

She looked him up and down, "I was correct then."

Without another word she tossed some clothes into the bedroom, they hit the bed. Tamlin lifted an eyebrow in confusion. 

"Clothing." She said, as if it were not obvious. 

"I won't be wearing Priestess robes." Tamlin said with a slight tilt to his lips. 

"I would be offended if you were." Ianthe retorted, "Change and once you two have your heart to heart there is someone who wants to see the two of you."

"Who?" Lucien asked. 

"Hurry up and you'll see." Ianthe told him flippantly. Then she closed the door. 

Lucien rolled his eyes hard enough Tamlin thought they might get stuck in the back of his head. 

"Must she be sarcastic as well as insufferable."

"Wouldn't be Ianthe otherwise." Was all Tamlin replied with as he moved to grab the clothes, she had tossed him. 

Not her clothing, certainly not, the Priestess. Specifically, the High Priestesses, swore their virginity to the Mother. Which included a myriad of rules that Tamlin had never paid attention to learning. His mother had always scolded him for not being as studious as he should've been. 

He didn't recognise the clothes and they smelled unused. How long had he been out that she had been able to go out and buy new clothing?

"I wonder who could be here-" Lucien started. Then cut himself off sharply as Tamlin unbuttoned his shirt. 

"Tam-Tamlin!" Lucien quickly swivelled his head away, staring adamantly at the wall opposite to Tamlin. 

Tamlin breathed in deeply as he still adjusted to the new weight on his chest. Strange and new despite him having worn it before. 

He didn't purposely altar anything. His body was as it was if he had been biologically born a female. Risking alterations risked unnecessary magic and in turn unnecessary risk. 

But it seemed he had inherited his mother's figure. Which was a pain in multiple ways. Including the back it was bound to cause his back. 

"Mother above." Tamlin mumbled as he stretched his arms. 

Lucien was very still, arms crossed, and eyes pinned to the wall. Tamlin watched him from the corner of his eye as he pulled on the thin blue knit top Ianthe had given him. It was fairly loose but tight enough that his figure was highlighted. Then he began to undo his trousers. 

"Have you never seen a female's body before, Lucien?" Tamlin teased as he pulled his trousers down over his hips. 

"I have-!" Lucien's gaze swiftly turned back at the implied insult, but he yelped and turned back away. 

Tamlin rolled his eyes and quickly pulled on the new grey wool pants. 

"You are free to look now." Tamlin said. 

Lucien breathed out through his nose then turned back around. He nodded once then furrowed his brow. 

"What?" Tamlin asked. 

Lucien stammered for a moment before gesturing to Tamlin's chest. Tamlin nearly laughed. 

"They're called tits, Lucien."

"I know- Mother above Tamlin." Lucien huffed, "I mean don't females usually wear.... undergarments for their breasts."

"Oh... yeah." That may possibly be helpful. 

There was silence for a moment, then Tamlin asked, "Where do we get one of those?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know Lucien, you're out with girls all the time."

"I don't go shopping with them." Lucien said scrunching his face. 

Tamlin sighed, then he slid off the bed, "Well I have to go ask Alis an uncomfortable question. Join me?"

"And watch you stammer as you try to ask, of course." Lucien replied, quickly following after him. 

Tamlin laughed and felt like maybe this would be okay. 

Alis had been lurking just in a room down the hall. Giving some order to the new maids who had been hired. Lucien had walked in first, Tamlin, suddenly insecure of his new form, had hidden behind him. Hands itching to hold onto the back of his shirt, but he already first embarrassed enough as it was. 

When Alis saw them, she quickly straightened and told the girls to shoo. They scattered off with a 'Yes miss,' and a curtsey to the Lords. 

Tamlin did not enjoy how they looked at him confused and hesitantly said 'My lady.' He did not refute them though. 

Once they were gone, Tamlin appeared before Alis more fully and began by saying, "So Alis-"

"This is going to be about bras I'm guessing." Alis said, with one hand on her hip. 

Tamlin blinked, "How did you-"

Alis gestured to his chest, then raised an eyebrow, "You have your mother's form. You can borrow some of hers until we can have some made for you."

"Oh please God no-"

"You have an important guest waiting for you in your office, so you will suck it up, sweetheart." Alis said kindly before leading him back in the direction of his bedroom, Lucien trailing behind. 

"Who is this important guest?" Tamlin asked. 

Alis hesitated for a moment, before ultimately saying, "You will see."

Lucien quickly leaned in a said, "I told you Ianthe is contagious."

Tamlin stifled a laugh as Alis dragged him back into his room. When Lucien attempted to follow in, Alis shut the door in his face. 

"Sorry Lucien!" She called out. 

"No problem!" Lucien called back, "I'll wait here!"

Quickly Alis went over to Tamlin's wardrobe and rifled through for a single box. His mother's possessions which had been cleaned and put away for safe keeping. She eventually looked back up at him. 

"Do you like red?" She asked sweetly. 

"I am going to get a very uncomfortable reality of what my mother went through aren't I?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you are."

***

After Alis finally taught him how the clasps worked, making more than one comment about Feyre must have had to undo all her own bras as he was hopeless. They walked back out. 

True to his word. Lucien was leaning against the wall opposite of the door, fiddling with his nails. As soon as the door opened and Tamlin stepped out, the Fox looked him over. Cheeks flushing red again, but he nodded, then jutted his head in the general direction of his office. 

"Shall we?" Lucien asked. 

"We don't have another choice." Tamlin mumbled. 

Alis told them she would be getting back to work. Then murmured a good luck, which didn't give Tamlin much hope. 

As they walked the halls, Lucien said, "You look good."

"Thanks, enjoy it while it lasts." He knew the effects of pregnancy were many. And many he was not looking forward to. 

Lucien lightly knocked Tamlin's shoulder with his own, "We'll handle everything as it comes."

Tamlin nodded but he couldn't shake the utter worry festering in him. 

Finally, they made it to the closed wood door of his office. Lucien and Tamlin stopped before it. Sharing a look. Tamlin nodded once and Lucien opened the door. 

Tamlin didn't know what he was expecting. A monster maybe, Amarantha back from the dead. Hybern himself. 

But his mind never conjured the idea of Eris Vanserra sitting in his chair. Legs kicked up on his desk, mindlessly playing with one of his pens. 

"Finally!" Eris exclaimed, "Someone deigns to meet me."

Lucien had gone awfully still in front of him. Eris met his eyes, having not seen Tamlin behind him yet, "Brother, I thought your High lord would come himself, but I can always discuss matters with you. You were always quite intelligent."

"Eris." Lucien growled. 

"Easy boy." Eris told him. Voice mocking, "I will not bite... nor burn."

"What are you doing here?" Lucien asked, his voice was a low and harsh. His hand twitched like the youngest Vanserra would like for nothing more than to burn his eldest brother to death. 

"Is it not obvious? I came to see my dear old friend Tam-"

As Eris spoke, Tamlin stepped out from behind Lucien. 

"-lin.... Interesting." Eris mused, a lazy grin spreading across his feline face as he laid further back into Tamlin's chair. 

"Vanserra, kindly get the fuck out of my chair."

After another careful once-over of Tamlin's new form, he said, "But the view from here if quite spectacular."

A smile spread on Tamlin's face, "Then come over here and you may see it better."

"Well, if you insist." Eris said as he easily stood without faltering and walked around the desk. 

In a second Lucien's arm shot out, but Eris tsked, "Such behaviour, littlest brother. I am sure Tamlin is fully capable."

"I trust you, Eris, as far as I can throw you. Which we can both assume would not be very far."

"Right." Eris drawled, side-eying his brother. 

"Enough sibling rivalry. Hello Eris." Tamlin said with a grin. 

Eris turned his attention to his friend, the friend he'd had for four centuries, "Hello Tamlin."

Lucien blinked. Tamlin just nodded to him, and the Fox glared but moved his hand away. 

"What do you need?" Tamlin asked, as long as he had been friends with Eris, he knew this was male never came around for just a friendly check in. 

"Heard on the grapevine that a certain bride ran off with teh High lord of Night. Decided to come around and see what all the fuss was."

Tamlin blinked, then he looked at Lucien who was scowling. 

If word had already reached Eris... How long had he been out for?

"Lucien how long was I asleep?" Tamlin asked. 

Lucien pursed his lips, then he turned to Tamlin and slowly said, "About a day and a half."

Tamlin gaped. He forced his way past Eris, who despicably was taller than him whilst he was female form. He looked out the large window behind his desk and saw that the sun was indeed high in the sky. 

"It's tomorrow?!" Tamlin seethed. 

"I didn't want to worry you so soon after you woke up." Lucien said gently. 

"It would have been helpful to know it was tomorrow!" 

That meant Feyre had already been in the Night Court for a day and a half. Rhysand doing the Gods knew what to her-

"Mother above." Tamlin felt sick. 

"Okay." Lucien hummed, he quickly walked over and took Tamlin's hands. Leading him to the green lounge. Slowly letting him sink into the soft pillows, "Breathe Tamlin."

Tamlin wanted to snap, but even breathing was becoming difficult. 

"What is going on?" Eris asked, concern bleeding into his words. 

Lucien looked between Eris and Tamlin, then leaned into whisper, "Do you wish to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eris stepped forward. 

"Eris-!" Lucien stood up, looking as though he would physically remove Eris from the office himself, but Tamlin caught his hand. 

"It's fine Lucien, he can know."

"Are you sure?" Lucien asked. 

Tamlin nodded, then turned to look at Eris who was standing with his arm crossed and eyebrow raised. 

He looked so smug, the one joy Tamlin could find was he about to knock that away. 

"Eris I'm pregnant."

Eris' furrowed his brow. 

A heartbeat passed, and the news sunk in. 

The first son of Autumn's face dropped. His mouth fell open, his eyes widened so most of his whites showed. He quickly put the back of his hand over his mouth as he processed it. 

"What?" Eris managed to choke out. 

In any other situation, Tamlin would have laughed at how the snarky Prince was finally speechless. Right now all he wished to do was cry. 

"Yes." His voice nearly cracked. But he swallowed hard and held his head high. 

"So that's why..." Eris made a gesture to his body and Tamlin wanted to curl up and away from sight.

"Yes." Tamlin said in a far quieter voice to keep the shaking out of his voice. 

"Oh... shit. But Feyre-"

"Is also a shapeshifter," Lucien said. 

Eris looked between Lucien and Tamlin. Occasionally opening his mouth to say something but ultimately choosing not to. 

Then he sat down on the lounge beside Tamlin, eyes blinking, and face still caught in shock, "Well... fuck."

"That was the beginning of the problem." Tamlin said. 

Lucien and Eris chuckled suddenly at Tamlin's attempt at a joke. 

Then the room fell silent again. 

Now that it was out and open, Tamlin couldn't deny it any longer. 

A baby. 

He was having a baby. 

And his fiancé was in the Night Court. Completely unknowing. 

And he was here. 

Tears pressed into his eyes and Tamlin was finally unable to stop them. 

"Oh, love." Lucien whispered. Collecting Tamlin in his arms. 

At the warmth, the love in his embrace. Tamlin was utterly helpless. He cried into his chest, unable to hold it back any longer. 

A warm hand that wasn't Lucien's rubbed up and down his back. 

"I'll murder Rhysand." Eris hissed under his breath. 

Lucien drew in a breath, "Let's just start with handling this week."

***

The week itself ended quicker than Tamlin thought it would. Eris couldn't stay for longer than the rest of the day, but he promised to return again later. 

As for Tamlin, he cried a lot that week. He also broke more than one vase after a nightmare of seeing Feyre underneath Rhysand, screaming for help-

Lucien held him a lot that week. Tamlin hated how dependant he felt on his touch, on his arms around him. Alis had been as open as she could, but even she was busy with training the new hires. And the most comfort Ianthe was physically capable of providing anybody was an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

More than once Lucien and Tamlin wound up in the library. Curled up on a cushioned seat made for one. The fire roaring the manor asleep. 

Tamlin had often tucked his face into Lucien's neck, whilst Lucien held him in his arms. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear to calm him. 

It had been a nice reprieve from the stress. But nothing could put aside the fear he held that at the end of the week Feyre wouldn't be back. 

But she was. 

And something was very, very different. 

Tamlin's first fear was that Rhysand had laid hands on her. But spoke little of what had happened during the week. 

"Anything, anything you learned, anything they told you." Lucien said, as Feyre glared at him from her seat. 

Her eyes were colder, her gaze piercing. She shook her head, "They told me nothing of value. I just stayed in his palace until the weeks end."

Tamlin nodded, finding comfort in that least, "He didn't touch you?"

Feyre shook her head and Tamlin wanted to thank the Mother. 

"That's good."

At least they had that reassurance. 

But why collect her now?

What game are you playing Rhysand?

***

"Feyre! Thank the Mother and Cauldron and every holy item in her trove!" Ianthe exclaimed as the taller female wrapped the Cursebreaker in a hug hard enough to crush. 

The air whooshed from Feyre's lungs and she gasped. But her shock overode the pain. Ianthe was hugging her. Being physically affectionate. 

That was... a first. 

Then she quickly pulled back and cupped Feyre's face, moving her head back and forth as she inspected the younger woman for injuries of any kind. 

"The Mother will wreak havoc on that male if he has harmed you. He never touched you, did he?" She asked quickly. 

Feyre shook her head. "No Ianthe, he did nothing to me."

"Oh, the Mother is kind and merciful." Ianthe then pulled her into another embrace. 

"Ianthe you- can't breathe."

"Oh, oh no." Ianthe quickly released her, "Sorry."

Feyre took in a breath and rubbed her sore ribs, "It's fine, really."

Ianthe nodded, then she scowled at her clothes, "Come flower, we'll get these atrocious fabrics off of you."

As much as Feyre wished to snap they were not atrocious, that she had learned to love the clothing she was in. That she didn't want to put on the clothes of Spring, but she nodded and silently allowed Ianthe to lead her back inside. 

Tamlin she saw next. Her initial reaction was shock because of who she saw standing in place of the normally broad hunter-like male. 

She saw Tamlin, in the same female form he had been in the night they shared together several months ago. A loose green silk dress adorned his figure, curving around his full breasts and slightly smaller waist. He was slightly shorter but still much taller than Feyre. Now Ianthe's height. Though Ianthe could not be called a short woman at all. 

"Feyre." He breathed, before rushing to pull her into hsi arms. 

Feyre let him, not knowing why the usual passion she felt for him was missing. 

***

The Tithe came and Tamlin was sick several times before it began. Lucien stayed with him in the bathroom for over half an hour just holding back his hair and rubbing his back. 

By the time he had to make an appearance he felt like going to sleep for a thousand years. He was tired and so, so fucking sick of it all. 

"Are you sure you're well enough to do this?" 

"Not at all." Tamlin said. 

He was nowhere near well enough to do this, but life wasn't fair especially to him. So, he sucked it up but on a fake smile and walked out into the throne room where Feyre was already waiting with Ianthe. The two were talking about something or other and the conversation halted as he entered, and the Tithe began. 

It was nearly as disastrous as the wedding. Ending with once again Feyre storming out. 

Tamlin knew what it must've looked like to her. He himself nearly felt bad for the Faery, but he also knew they had found their way here from Summer during the fifty years and had never participated in the Tithe before. He already had the complaint that they didn't want to. 

But until the treasures were at least partially recovered from Under the Mountain, and trade was back and running through the Courts. They needed the Tithe. 

It was one thing that Feyre said that pissed him off enough that he didn't go after her himself. 

"We already have enough jewels."

As if the Tither's collections were for him. As if most, if not all of it went into the salaries for his staff, housing for his people, the workers and the farmers supplies and defences for Spring. 

Tamlin had stormed back to his room. It didn't help that he felt fucking useless, helpless, in this form. In a delicate state he couldn't risk too much. 

Worst of all he hated the way he now had to dress in it to appear proper. He hated the way his body looked. And he hated knowing how the baby would ruin how he looked. 

For years his body had been the one thing in his life had control of. Then Amarantha had forced him and his Court Under the Mountain and his body too was stripped from him. 

Eyes roaming exposed skin, taking what didn't belong to it-

He just got his body back and now it was taken again. Now the love of his life was being taken from him a week a month.

Tamlin stormed to his room and locked the door. He then ran to his bed, grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. He pulled back inhaled then screamed into again. 

Then he threw the pillow to the floor like it was personally responsible for years of agony. 

He wanted to destroy the entire room. Feel the thrill of shredding fabric and breaking furniture under his claws. 

But he was fucking tired. 

He collapsed onto his bed, grabbed another pillow and screamed into that as well. Before tossing it across the room, it hit the wall with a thud. 

Tamlin closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, he hoped he never opened them. 

There was a knock at his door. 

"Go away!" Tamlin shouted. 

"I wasn't going to come in." Ianthe answered, "I just wanted to tell you Feyre is safe in her room, but Rhysand will be collecting her tomorrow."

Oh shit.

Fuck no-

Tamlin sat up straight, but Ianthe called out, "Before you come rushing out this is a hallway with two closed doors at either end and no other women are here so let me leave first."

Tamlin huffed but sat back down, Ianthe then said, "She also doesn't want to see you, but I believe Lucien is waiting in the library."

Tamlin wanted to ask why he should care if Lucien was waiting in the library, but her heard her footsteps leaving and the door of the hallway opening and closing. 

"Mother help me." Tamlin mumbled as he stood up and finally left. 

He passed Feyre's room and at first his body screamed top open the door and see her. But Ianthe's warning came to mind. He sighed but left it alone. 

Lucien was in fact in the library. Sprawled across the sae chair they had spent the week curled up together in. He was deeply entrenched in what he was reading. But he looked up at the sound of Tamlin's footsteps. 

Lucien smiled, putting his book down he opened his arms, "Come here, baby."

"Fuck." Tamlin whispered under his breath before rushing to Lucien and falling into his arms, sobbing relentlessly into his dhoulder. 

"I'm so fucking pathetic." He cried. 

"No you're not, Tam, no you're not." Lucine murmured. 

"I can't even protect the one person I'm supposed to protect."

"I know, Tam, I know." Lucien kept him wrapped in his warm arms. They stayed holding each other for hours, until Tamlin ran out of tears and fell into exhaustion, finally sleeping, despite the slightly awkward position. 

At some point after Tamlin had fallen asleep someone knocked on the threshold and Lucien looked up to see Alis at the door, and behind her was Eris. 

The eldest Vanserra walked in, needing no further introduction from Alis, who just nodded to Lucien before slipping away. 

Eris sat in a lounge next to Lucien, simply saying, "I'll stay with him this week when you can't."

"Why do you care?" Lucien asked. 

"Because he would do the same for me."

***

The week came and went. Same as ever. Except that this time Eris did stay. 

As much as Tamlin just wanted to sleep for a week and wake up whenever Feyre was back, he was a High lord and lately one thing stood on the forefront of his mind. The bargain Feyre had made. 

Books upon books were open on his desk. Scattered across the ground, papers scrunched littered the floor. Eris was sitting in the green lounge, also flipping through the old books they had taken from the library. 

"Nothing." Eris stated, letting the book nag onto the coffee table. 

"Could you at least try to be helpful?" Tamlin growled, though it did not sound the same in his female form it was just as intimidating. Though Eris, as per usual, was not impressed. 

"I'd much rather be a nuisance." Eris said deadpan. Tamlin rolled his eyes. 

"Gods above." Tamlin cursed. 

Was there no way out of this?

Here is the link to chapter three!

[bestruction]

Getting high with them for the first time

N/A: If you do drugs do it safely

My masterlist

- Eren Jaeger

He's not the type of guy who pressured you to use, let alone say you're immature or coward for it. When you decide to try it, it's genuinely your idea, and who better than your boyfriend to teach?

That's how you end up in his room, with the door and windows lock to make sure the smell doesn't catch his parent's attention. You sat on the carpet while he carefully rolls the joint so that the cigarette holder doesn't fall.

“Tighten your lips like this and take a deep breath through your mouth” He took a short drag before releasing the smoke “But not too long since this is your first time your throat is not used to the smoke”

You nod and accept the cigarette doing as he said. You feel the smoke warm your mouth, watch it hoover before your eyes after blowing and wait for...Nothing. No different sensation, no tingling, literally nothing.

"I don't think it worked"

“It is not like a switch. Wait a minute, babe ”

You talk a little about the day-to-day of the two and then go to play something new that he had bought. After a few games and a few more huffs, you still don't feel any difference or anything. You even try to hold the smoke in your mouth for a longer time, which results in you coughing incessantly and Eren laughing in your face. Hearing him laugh has always been one of your favorite things. The way he bends his body and laughs out loud without shame until he blushes always makes you laugh together with him, like now.

You laugh, laugh until your body asks for air and needs to alternate between laughter and breathing. You feel calm, relax as if you had lifted a weight off your shoulders. You lay on the carpet feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin ... Was it always that soft? So silky? So comfortable? You close your eyes and rub your hand over the texture, and then the smell of Eren's citric perfume invades your nose. When you opened your eyes, jade eyes were watching you closely.

"I think it has taken effect now, huh?" He says stroking your hair. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" He asks, getting on top of you.

"A few times"

“Then I’m going to tell you again: you’re beautiful” he kisses your lips “So damn beautiful” He kisses your chin “Every single part of you” And now your jaw.

You two spent the afternoon making out on the floor and praising each other. Not because you were high, I mean, not only, but because being so sensitive brought it even more evident how much you wanted each other.

- Levi Ackerman

You had a horrible week. It seemed that everything that could go wrong over the course of seven days had made a point of happening even worse than you imagined. When you got home even after taking a long hot shower and lying in bed, you're unable to relax.

"If you keep turning from side to side, I won't sleep either" Murmured Levi.

"I know. Sorry"

"I'm not complaining. Come here" He pulls you to lie on his chest "Better?"

"A little bit"

"Just a little bit?" He smiles softly "You can try what I do when I get like this"

"Do you mean the mushrooms?"

"If you want to"

You two get out of bed and go to the kitchen. He takes a clear plastic bag from the fridge and places it in front of you. Levi is not the type of guy who gets high all the time. It's more like an escape for when his stress is too high, like yours. He already used it when you met him, and even if you didn't, you never saw a problem with it.

"Just it?"

"I can make tea if you prefer"

"Why don't you use weed like everyone else?"

"Too much work. To roll, check for purity. With mushrooms, I just need to buy and chew them ”

"Well, bon appetit"

You two eat the frozen mushrooms. The taste is not so bad, but it is not a good thing and the smell reminds you of something that had been removed from the forest, which makes sense. Levi suggests that you lie down on the sofa in the living room to watch a movie. There was no need to worry about tomorrow as it would be a day off for both of you.

Lying on Levi's lap and watching the TV, the colors start to shine before your eyes. You didn't remember the white wall looking so vivid, or the pixels on the TV seeming to slow down when you focused on a specific point. It was your house, but it didn't look real. You felt inside a peaceful dream, and inside that dream, you fell asleep forgetting about your nightmare week.

- Armin Arlert

It's your idea. It's Mikasa's birthday party, and Connie had taken some ecstasy pills from whoever wants to use them. So you take two, drag your boyfriend to the bathroom and lock the door.

"You don't have to do it with me if you don't want to, Armin"

"I'm curious too," He says, staring at the little pink pills on your hand.

Armin swallows one, and you do the same after him.

Armin swallows one, and you do the same after him. You want the experience to be as safe as possible. Then both sit in the bathtub and wait for the effect while talking. About half an hour later, you notice how dilated are the pupils of the blond in front of you. Your hearing is a little muffled, and you feel happy and light for no apparent reason. A slight tingle comes and goes through your body, like a wave spreading that sensation across your skin.

You go over to Armin and sit on his lap. He smiles at you, and more than ever, you want to kiss him until you're out of breath, and he's not different from you.

Armin takes your hand between his and brings it to his mouth. He spreads small, short kisses on your hand. You focus on the feeling of his lips running over your skin. You are so damn sensitive even his breathing makes you shiver.

As if a magnetic force pulls you both, you two kiss, letting that soft cloud of pleasure envelop you both. When Armin presses you against his body, deepening the kiss and tasting your mouth, you want to break the laws of physics and be able to occupy the same place as him. You want to become one with him.

And the two of you may not be able to do it, but you certainly tried A LOT in that bathroom.

- Jean Kirstein

Jean is handsome, tall, friendly, and intelligent. So when he starts to be invited to every possible party in college, you’re not surprised. You two have been dating since high school, and you don't feel jealous if he goes to parties alone but he always finds a way to convince you to accompany him with some excuse. Like,  that it would be a lot more fun if you're next to him.

Today, this is one of those times when he convinces you. It's not that you don't like parties kind of, but a party full of strangers doesn't seem like the most attractive thing to you. Then after dancing and talking to people for a long time, he drags you to one of the rooms in the house to give you a well-deserved break.

"Thank you for coming with me," He said, hugging you from behind after closing the door.

"I'm going to want some compensation for that, Kirstein," You said, sitting down in an armchair that was there.

"How about ... That" Jean takes a bag with two white pills out of his pocket and tosses it towards you.

"What is it?"

"LSD"

"What kind of people have you been involved with?" You joke “If your mom knew what you've been up to, Jeanboo”

"Shut up" He sat next to her "If you want to try, I try"

It wouldn't be his first time getting high, he used to smoke weed with Eren in the basement since high school, but it would be yours. As I said, Jean is smart. You knew he had been wanting to try acid for some time. So of course, he had researched on.

Honestly? You are curious but afraid after so many speeches “don’t do drugs, kids”. Jean would never propose anything that could endanger the two of you, which is exactly why he only suggested it when you were alone, and if you said "no" it would be like it never happened.

"Is it just swallowing?"

"Put it under your tongue and let it dissolve"

You lie down on the floor and take it at the same time. It tastes bitter, but unlike any medicine, you've taken in your life.

It takes some time for it to start taking effect, but when it finally did you know. The sound of loud music, muffled by the walls of the room seems to be inside your head now. The colors tremble in front of you, mixing, moving, becoming more intense. You raise your hand towards the ceiling, and you don't feel like that's your hand. Everything seems surreal. You feel calm but active. It's like being very drunk, but the other way around.

Jean pulls you into his chest, and you can hear his heart pumping blood at full speed, like yours. You feel your throat dry, your body sweat, and your hands get cold.

If I could define that feeling with a word, it would definitely be intense.

You spent the night like that. Watching the furniture move and change shape, lying on the floor and without detaching from each other. At some point, you ended up sleeping, and after having the weirdest dream of your life, you woke up with Jean calling you carefully. The sun had already risen, and the house was silent, indicating that the party was over a long time ago.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, helping you to stand.

“Hungry and hungover”

He mumbles something about also being, and you go out to eat at the nearest cafeteria.

[simon-egg]

Benthan Week Day 1 - Hurt/ comfort

Title: Digging In

1873 words fic with art. TW for blood, torture and injury. Physical hurt followed by comfort with a happy ending. Benji is taken and physically tortured in an unusal way.

~○~

Benji lurched forward as something connected with his torso followed by another sudden movement which caused pain to shoot up his side. His eyes snapped open.

“Get up.” Spat a voice from above.

The agent realised he was on a cold, hard floor in a dimly lit space. His chest was bare and he shivered with short gasps. With no recollection of how he got there and a dizzying feeling, he realised he had been drugged. The last thing he remembered was driving home after a long day writing up mission reports which could have been minutes or hours ago. Before his mind was clear enough to fully assess the situation he was in, he was roughly dragged to his feet. Whatever drug they had given Benji had sapped his energy and he sagged, unable to control or defend himself. Benji registered one person holding him firmly upright while another, a man with thick clothes and gloves, began to unwind a roll of barbed wire. Without hesitation, one of Benji's arms was pulled forward and the wire was pulled over his palm and roughly bent around his wrist. The barbs began slicing into his skin and Benji let out a shout of agony to which seemed to spur his captors on. Over and over again, the wire was roughly twisted around his arm at various angles, each coil bringing more barbs puncturing his skin. Grimly, Benji noted that the drug which kept him from fighting back did nothing to stop the pain. As soon as Benji thought the pain was growing too much to bear, the wire was looped through a ring bolted to the ceiling and his other arm was subjected to the same torture. This left him standing upright with his arms trapped above his head. By now whatever drug he was given had worn off enough that he could hold himself up straight. The two men stepped back and in front of Benji, seeming to gleefully eye up the state that they'd put him in.

Benji recognised the men as members of the Apostles who had not yet been tracked down. The one who had used the wire began to speak.

“You're going to die here.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Whether it takes hours or days, it doesn't matter. Just know that all you'll know until you die is pain-“

Benji tried to kick at the men which only caused himself more pain. “Why would you do this?” he choked out.

“You and your friend, Ethan, shouldn’t have tried to stop us. We may not have been able to cause mass suffering but If Ethan finds you strung up here, dead, knowing there will have been nothing he could have done to save his precious friend. That. That is enough for us now.”

Before Benji could think of a reply, the men turned and left.

He could smell his own blood which coated his arms and dripped down past his elbows, some splashed onto his chest and further to the floor with a barely audible wet sound. As time passed, his vision adjusted and he understood from the corrugated iron walls that he was in an old, rusting shipping container but with little light and no windows, he had no idea where he was or how long he had been there. All the while, the barbs caused searing pain and his muscles began to ache as he was forced to hold himself in position.

Light coming through cracks in the door and walls had brightened gradually, indicating to Benji that the sun was rising outside of the box. Some of his blood had dried to a brownish crust while fresh blood occasionally oozed. Hours continued to pass and the only thing keeping Benji from giving up completely was the hope that Ethan might find him. He had to try and stay alive because his captors were right; the thought of Ethan finding him strung up and dead was almost worse than the physical pain he was in. It was peculiar to Benji how those around him, even those he fought against seemed to immediately pick up on the bond between him and Ethan but then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd after all. They had so much faith in one another, kindness, loyalty and shared experiences that Benji found himself growing ever closer to the other agent. In fact, the feelings he had for Ethan had begun to develop past friendship after Kashmir and into something else. Benji made a promise to himself that if by some impossible miracle he was to get out alive, he would tell Ethan how he felt. With his eyes screwed shut against the pain, Benji found comfort in picturing Ethan talking to him, reassuring him, laughing at his jokes and smiling with that kind old smile that he might never see again.

The cruellest part of this torture, Benji came to realise was that despite the exhaustion, blood loss and agony which coaxed him to pass out, he simply could not allow himself to move or relax. He knew that doing so would make the barbs to twist deeper into his flesh. For now, he noted that no barbs were deep enough to hit any major blood vessels or the blood loss would have killed him by now. Despite this, he was still loosing blood and Benji began doubting that he could stay awake and tears began to sting, threatening to spill. Maybe he should give in, even if he died there, at least the dead don’t feel pain.

Benji was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping against metal as the door was forced open and light flooded into the container.

“Benji…” Ethan’s voice echoed.

Ethan rushed closer but Benji didn't move, too physically and mentally drained to respond. He simply stared down with dull and unfocused eyes. Ethan’s gaze flicked over Benji's form, horrified at the situation Benji was in. A gentle hand was on Benji's face, and Ethan's thumb caressed his cheek.

Softly, Ethan whispered "Look at me" and after a few seconds, Benji's eyes flicked up to meet Ethan's.

“i'm so, so sorry Benji...” Ethan felt a rush of anger. He wanted to cry but he had to hold himself together for Benji. He was lucky to have found Benji alive. The two Apostles who took Benji did not anticipate just how determined and fast Ethan would be with the help of Luther who had tracked Benji's location by hacking security cameras. Luther was waiting nearby in a van.

"I can't remove the wire from your arms, it could cause more damage but I promise you, this will be over soon. I'm taking you home"

Benji was too weak to hold himself up and Ethan knew that if he simply cut Benji free, he could collapse and cause more injury. Ethan also understood that removing the barbs there and then would only cause more pain and bleeding too.

He used his left hand to steady one of Benji's arms in place above his head, careful to avoid pressure on the wire, then used a pair of cutters with his right to cut through the wire that held Benji's arm up. Ethan then slowly lowered that arm to Benji's side. He did the same to the other arm then awkwardly shuffled closer to Benji's side and manoeuvred an upper arm to rest across his neck, attempting to steady him. After failing to shuffle forwards holding Benji up like this, it became evident that Benji did not possess the strength to walk at all and Ethan didn’t want to put any pressure on his arms.

“I- I can’t, Ethan, I just-“ Benji coughed out.

“It’s okay, I’ll carry you” and Ethan resorted to gathering Benji up and carrying him out. Benji noticed the bodies of the two apostles outside and the last coherent thought he had before he passed out was thinking of how warm Ethan's arms were.

~

Benji woke up again to find himself in the back of a van. Pain continued to flare up his arms and he groaned, his chest throbbed and his head pounded. A reassuring hand stroked through his hair and realised his head was in Ethan’s lap.

“i've got you, you're going to be okay" murmured his friend. One of Ethan’s jackets had been draped over Benji's upper body to try and keep him warm for the journey and a quick glance up he could tell Luther was driving. “We’re not far from a hospital now, you’re going to be just fine.”

Luther had called ahead to notify the hospital and upon arrival they were met by a team of paramedics. Benji was taken inside and immediately given some strong pain killers along with fluids. The rest of the day passed in a haze, scans were taken of the tech’s arms to determine how close any barbs were to blood vessels, tendons and nerves. Then, Benji was sedated and the painstaking process of removing the wire began.

~

The next time Benji awoke he was relived to find that the wire had been removed from his arms and hands which were mostly covered in bandages. The painkillers had worked their magic and he mostly just felt subdued and so, so exhausted.

“I’d hold your hand if I could” Ethan murmured, catching Benji’s attention. The older agent sat in a chair next to the bed and Benji could have sworn he looked like he had been crying. The comment and Ethan’s expression caught Benji off guard and he briefly wondered if he had imagined it.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan paused, contemplating what to say. “I’ve just… come to realise how much you mean to me, I care about you so much, more than you know and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realise and tell you that. I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

Before Ethan could continue, Benji quietly interjected “Thinking of you while I was in that place kept me going, kept me from giving up, so yes, yes I feel the same.”

“Are you sure?”

Benji perked up slightly “of course, I’m bloody sure!" He chuckled "I love you Ethan Hunt and can not be more relived that you feel the same!”

Ethan beamed and moved closer to the bed, then pressed his lips to Benji’s gently, a sweet kiss that Benji smiled into and a promise of many more in their future.

When Ethan pulled back he spoke again, “I was thinking, if you’d let me, once you are discharged from here, can I come back with you? To your place? You won’t be able to do much without full use of both arms for a while and I want to help you. I want to be there for you and if I’m with you I’ll be able to make sure you’re safe. Not that you’re not capable of looking after yourself I just-, while you recover which I know will take some time, both physically and mentally”

Benji grinned, feeling a wave of affection for Ethan “of course, I’d love to have your company… and maybe you could stick around with me after I’m mostly healed?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

[murderousginger]

Demons & Angels

Warnings: Menton of drug use. Smutty sexy things. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 2211

Song here

(gif by @nofckingfighting)

You worked yourself up all afternoon to show up at his door. You'd had enough of Tommy Shelby and his attitude. You were sick of him brushing off your ideas, keeping you in the dark except for your small part in whatever plan he had. You were tired of hunting him down to speak to him and his words always being so clipped with you. He kept you at a distance, careful to not touch you as if dealing with a leper.

He might be the devil of Small Heath but you thought you had been friends well enough for him to spare you a look, a thought, a smirk. Something. And so you were on his doorstep that night, late enough to ensure he was home, knocking so rapidly that you almost knocked Finn in the head when he cracked the door open. Your anger waffled as Finn looked at you.

"Oh, sorry Finn," you say as you look to your feet.

"Why are you knocking like a copper this late, (Y/N)?" He asks, wide-eyed. "Arthur was 'bout ready to blow the door out."

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to Tommy," you say, looking anywhere but at the child in front of you. "Is he home? Can I speak with him?"

A large hand grips the door above Finn's head and pulls the door wider. Arthur sticks his head out, scowling.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)," he barks. "Why are you here at this hour? I nearly blew your head off. Come in, come in."

They both retreat and you come in, closing the door behind you. Finn is dressed for bed already and Arthur is half dressed, his shirt half buttoned, as if he was just about to sink into sleep himself.

"I came to talk to Tom," you say, regaining your conviction.

"At this hour?" Arthur squints. "He doesn't know you're coming, does he?"

You shake your head as you clasp your hands together.

"No, but-"

"This can't wait till mornin'?" He scratches the back of his head. "It's late, love, and I'm sure any business--"

"It's not business and I'm not leaving without talking to Tommy," you raise your voice a little, panic lacing through your tone as you realize you might not be allowed to see him. You'll lose steam by morning, unable to meet his eyes and tell him how you feel.

Arthur nods, his head down as he pauses before he looks back to meet your eyes, his voice calmer, softer.

"Right then," he nods to Finn, "you, off to bed. Now."

Finn does as he's told, eyes wide.

"Right," Arthur clears his throat. "Right. Well. Something I need to tell you first, right, is that Tom's…"

He trails off, his hand waving as if to catch words in the air to fill his mouth.

"Tom's not himself right now," he says finally, meeting your eye as if to push the meaning into your head.

"Not himself?" You repeat, dropping your chin to your chest.

"Yuh," he said, nodding more vigorously as you catch his words. "He's more, y'know, calm… right now. He's had a bit of opium to sleep and he might not be in full form."

"Opium?" You frown. "Why's--"

"He takes it to sleep," Arthur says as he shuffles in place. "He don't talk about it much. I think you'd be alright."

He squints as he smooths his mustache down.

"A woman shouldn't set 'im off like I do," he mutters to himself. "Come'n, love, I'll show you his door."

Arthur walks to the stairs and goes up them before you find your feet and follow, more questions than answers from the interaction. You both stop at the first closed door at the top of the stairs, and Arthur points to it as he steps away from it.

"He's just there," he said, continuing his walk down the hall. "Wait 'til I'm out of sight, or I'll set him off, and we don't want fuckin' war flashbacks tonight, love."

Your eyes widened as your hand froze over the doorknob.

"Just be easy," Arthur said, his hands gesturing wildly. "It's all a bit of a dream to him right now."

Arthur disappeared into his room as you stared at the door, uncertainty tainting your anger. You were used to unaffected, strong, stubborn Tommy Shelby. Who would this man be behind the door?

You finally took a deep breath and turned the knob, moving into a room of heavy sour smoke. It tickled your nose as you looked at the mostly bare walls. The only furniture was a wooden chair, an end table, and the small bed that Tommy Shelby lay across as he contemplated the ceiling as if you weren't there.

You closed the door, fidgeting as you sank into the wooden chair.

"Tommy?" You call, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

He frowns as he turns to you, scrutinizing you before he looks back to the ceiling.

"That's new," he says to himself with a shrug. "I suppose she's been on my mind but it's not normal to conjure."

"Conjure?" You ask, lost in his words.

"I see spirits, love," he says. "Not the living. You can be off now."

His words brush you off like a maid and rekindles your resolve.

"Why have you been pushing me away?" You ask as you sit on his bed near his feet with your arm propping yourself up as you watch him. He took a deep breath.

"Do you think I tell people things?"

He stayed still, a picture of calm waters, as he laid on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"And I do?"

"You're telling me now."

"No," you sputter, "I'm asking a question."

"People don't ask questions about things they have no care for."

"Have you always been this obstinate, Tommy Shelby?" You shake your head as you look to the ceiling.

A heavy silence fills the room as you both stare above to the blank ceiling. You fall into your head, the dark corners that you retreat to when you can't quite grasp those around you, and you start to shuffle through the worst explanations to fill the silence. This was a terrible idea. I'm a fool.

"I am cursed," he said, breaking you from your thoughts. "Everything I touch gets tainted. Broken."

You soften as you look over, your mouth shut in fear a response would silence him. His face is pinched, his eyes searching above him, as if he can't find the words. There's never the right words.

"You fit," he said. "You don't flinch at the violence. You don't flinch at the business. You've never given me the look."

He stops, finally looking down to his feet to look over you, through you. His eyes cover your every curve and he gives a slight nod before he looks back up to the ceiling.

"The look?" You whisper, afraid that anything louder would stop him, take him out of whatever trance had him. Whatever the opium opened in his head.

"Disgust," he said. "Fear. Loathing. You've never stopped looking at me like I'm just a man."

"You've never been anything else to me, Tommy," you say as his face drops, his blue eyes melt over you like clear skies.

"I am to everyone else," he lowed.

"Should I be afraid of Thomas Shelby, Devil of Small Heath?" Your eyebrow quirked up involuntarily, taunt thick in the air.

He smiled at his epithet on your lips, the words rolling out of your mouth. They didn't have the usual feelings behind them that he had grown used to. You knew the answer before you asked and nothing would change your certainty.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He says it like he isn't there, like his words aren't really attached and settling into the world around him. It just tumbles out of his mouth without thought. He mulls the words over once they're in the air as if he hadn't actually considered it before that moment.

Your heart catches in your throat, expanding, exploding in your chest. He looks down to you, mouth slightly parted as he looks over you again, his words settling into his brain.

"Odd," he says, watching you frozen in place as he sits up. "I've never placed that thought. But that would be why you're here now, innit? You've been in the back of my brain so long you've appeared. The opium conjures what I reject."

"Why reject me, Tom, when I've always been by your side?"

"Why poison the only good?" He breathes out. "I'm done with this talk. You're like a mirage, if I touch you, you're gone."

You sit frozen as he cocks his head and reaches out as if to move a curtain away. His fingers ghost over your lips as his mouth slacks and his eyes flare. Shock and anger fight over his features like lightning in a summer thunderstorm.

"I'm not disappearing, Tom," you whisper against his fingertips. "The opium didn't conjure me. You touched me and I'm still here, unbroken."

"Fuck."

It's all he uttered. Sharp. Succinct. He pulls his hand back as if he burnt himself on you.

"Kiss me."

He buries his face in his hand, muttering nonsense to himself.

"I'm telling you I feel the same," you rasp, your heart fluttering as the words fill you with a jolt of fear. "You can't confess your feelings and refuse to kiss me."

"I'm afraid to kiss you," he breaths out, flustered by his own words. His hand wipes his mouth and shakily hangs in his lap.

"Why?"

"Because if I start I don't know if I can stop."

"Who says I want you to?"

Tommy hesitates but his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing it softly. Your hand finds the base of his neck and you pull him to you, your kiss hungry. Tommy matches your passion, his hesitation dripping away in the flames as you taste the whiskey on his tongue and a sour taste you can smell in the air around you. You breath out a soft moan as he bites your lip and his hands cup your face as his kisses move across your jaw.

"That sound," he growls as he pulls you into his lap, "I'll spend forever in that noise."

You chuckle, but your breath hitches as he kisses the soft spot on your neck. You wrap your arms around him and squirm in his lap. His teeth rake the spot and you're seeing stars, fucking planets orbiting your head. You moan louder and he growls into your skin, ripples of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"You like that," he says like it's fact, and it is. Oh, it is.

Your dress is over your head before you realize, only the cool air causing goosebumps across your flesh makes you register it's disappearance. He presses you back, pulling you both backward before his hand finds your chest and he lays you flat on your back.

"Hell is the absence of that noise you make," Tommy mumbles as his hands run along your legs and his nose tickles your thighs.

He searches, tests you, settles there as if he's willing to do anything to keep that noise in his head. You moan lightly when he touches the right spot and grow louder as he dives in, his hands pressing into your skin harder as your body wriggles from the intensity of the feelings he gives you. He hums as you arch your back against the bed.

You hiss, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite as you push against him. There are other people in the house and you can't yell the house down. You look down to see the crinkle of amusement around his eyes and his hand reaches to pull yours from your mouth.

"Your brothers are in the house, Tommy," you whine, fighting to keep your voice down as your eyes roll back.

"They've heard worse, love," he said as he climbs your body, his words growling down your ear. "But I've never heard something so sweet. Moan my name again."

He got his way. Tommy Shelby always got his way.

When both of you collapse together, breathing hard in each other's arms, Tommy pulls you close to his chest.

"I broke my rule for you," he says as he kisses the top of your head.

"Tommy Shelby has rules?" You twist to look up at him. "I always thought you look at rules and pass them by."

"I am selective with which ones I follow," he says as he pulls your lips to his. "I just have the one I've never broken."

"And that is?" You smile lazily, tired and enjoying his touch.

"Don't endanger the innocent."

Your brows knot together as you open your mouth to protest.

"My hands on your skin put you in danger," he says before you can speak. "I've put a target on your back with my bloody hands."

You kiss him slow and soft.

"Well," you say as you pull back. "I guess the devil of Small Heath will just have to protect me, then."

[shadow-night]

Bounty Hunter in the Shadows Chapter 1

More chapters here on Ao3.

Story Tags: Erasermic, Friends to Lovers, young Aizawa Shouta, young Yamada Hizashi, Slow Burn, Slice of Life, Hurt/ Comfort, Angst and Feels, Comedy, Fluff, mental breakdown, PTSD, flashbacks, self-medication, drug use, homelessness, homeless Aizawa Shouta, unhealthy coping mechanisms, survivor guilt, cats, growing gp, character study, character development, recovery

Chapter 1: Aizawa and Yamada

Finally graduation day arrived. Aizawa held his UA high school diploma in his hands. This was a joyous occasion – or at least it should be. He should feel proud, which he did to an extent. Aizawa could not help but find the entire event nostalgic before it was even over.

He was a little proud he managed to pull through and finished school, graduating from the most famous hero school in Japan no less, but he also felt a deeply routed guilt. Yamada was joking and laughing with friends. Everyone was loud and happy, yet someone was missing.

Yamada tore Aizawa from his thoughts as he excitedly called out to him. Aizawa put on a teasing smile, silencing him with a quirk and vanished. It was meant as a joke but it also was great to escape his classmates.

Aizawa rolled his eyes at the endless amounts of texts Yamada sent him. He could practically hear the disappointed yelling while reading about how he had missed all the group photos. He didn't even bother to listen to the voice messages or pick his phone up when it rang. Aizawa went home and relaxed on his bed, knowing his foster parents wouldn't get home until later.  He wondered what would happen if he left right this moment without another word to anyone. His suitcase was already packed.

A new message lit up his phone's home screen. Aizawa reached for the device, only now bothering to look at the chat.

Yamada:

We're all going out to eat tonight. Will you come?

Aizawa:

No. I promised them dinner.

It was true. He had promised his foster parents a ‘goodbye dinner’ before moving out. It was the reason why he didn't leave right this afternoon. They were decent people and were kind enough to give him space and not pressure him into spending more time together, so when they asked if he would have dinner with them tonight he couldn't say no.

Yamada:

But you're leaving tomorrow morning, right?! When will we see each other again??

That was a good point. It still hadn't quite sunken in that they would not be back at school again soon. They wouldn't just leave school for a weekend or a holiday, but forever. Aizawa almost regretted not staying longer at school now, though he also knew that it wasn't his thing. Seeing everyone excited for the future and sad they would part would have been a little too much. He was happier alone in his bedroom.

Yamada:

Can I come over?

 Aizawa:

What about dinner?

 Yamada:

We meet later. I'll come over.

Well. Now that that was decided all there was left to do was to wait for the energetic blonde. Wherever Yamada had been, he couldn't have been too far from his home. He was out of breath when, ten minutes later, he rang the doorbell non stop until the door was opened for him.

"Come on in." Aizawa said and they headed over to the brunet's room, where they sat down on the bed. At least Aizawa sat down. Yamada flopped onto the mattress still trying to catch his breath.

"You could have walked here." Aizawa noted.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to miss any more time! Who knows when we'll see each other again!" Yamada said.

"You're the one who wanted to work in America." Aizawa reminded him.

"I knoooow." Yamada whined, but then a grin returned to his face. "But I'm sure it's gonna be awesome!" he said determinedly.

"Just don't start talking to me in English all the time." Aizawa said and realized that he really would miss Yamada.

During their first year at U.A. he did not get particularly close with anyone but Shirakumo and  Yamada. In their second year Aizawa had allowed himself to befriend Kayama a little. The cat Aizawa and Shirakumo found and gave to her had helped a lot in terms of befriending the girl who was a grade ahead of them.

After Shirakumo's death Aizawa made sure it stayed that way and distanced himself from others. He couldn't bear the thought of getting close to someone again only to loose them later. He looked at Yamada who lay on his back next to him on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Aizawa didn't want to think about how he would react if anything happened to the blonde.

"What train will you take tomorrow morning?" Yamada suddenly asked.

"Why? Don't tell me you want to meet me at the station." Aizawas tone was flat and seemingly uninterested.

"Ehhhh? Why not?!"

"You'll be hung-over." Aizawa stated.

"What? You really think us aspiring pro heroes will succumb to underage drinking?!" Yamada called out in mock surprise as if they hadn't- together in fact- gotten drunk before. Then he turned more serious. "I'd still come if you told me what time the train left." Yamada claimed.

"At 8:00 in the morning? Are you sure?" Aizawa said, a small smirk ghosting on his lips.

"Damn. That's early. Why are you torturing yourself like that?" Yamada asked, knowing how much Aizawa hated getting up early himself. Though, to be fair Aizawa seemed unhappy about getting up at any time. Insomnia was a real pain in the ass.

"I'll still come." Yamada said.

Aizawa just gave a low hum.

"You don't believe me! You'll see. I'll be there!" Yamada bumped his fist into Aizawa's shoulder.

"I didn't say anything." Aizawa said, raising his hands, showing his palms.

"Anyways." Yamada huffed. "You'll have to send me pictures of your apartment when you get there, alright."

"It's shitty. Nothing worth showing off." Aizawa protested.

"I don't care. I just want to see pictures."

"I'll send you pictures of the cockroaches I'll room with." Aizawa teased.

"Please don't!" Yamada looked horrified.

"You get those or nothing." Aizawa shrugged. This was nice. It was easy banter, just the two of them, nothing too overwhelming.

They fell into a comfortable silence, Yamada's eyes landing on Aizawa's packed suitcase.

Yamada had been surprised when Aizawa told him he would leave Musutafu the day after their graduation. He himself would travel to the US soon after the school year ended, but his flight went a week after graduation, giving him enough time to say goodbye to classmates and family. Well, Aizawa could count the friends he had on two fingers and he also did not have much family. Yamada did not know Aizawa’s host family particularly well but the few times he met them they seemed nice. Yamada could not help but wonder if Aizawa left so soon because he felt uncomfortable around them or if it had to do with Aizawa's general attitude and mood ever since their work study ended in their second year.

Yamada had a great support system at home but it was difficult mourning their dead friend himself and helping Aizawa at the same time. Shirakumo's death hit them both hard, though Aizawa definitely had a less healthy way of coping and far less support or people who didn't offer the support he needed which ended in him changing host families a month after their work study. It had been painful to watch Aizawa train in the Gym to the point he was so exhausted he fell asleep in their classes. Yamada had done his best to be there and watch Aizawa as often as he could, sometimes even training with him. It made them grow closer over time.

"You've got to take care of yourself." Yamada broke the silence.

Aizawa frowned, then looked away from the blonde. "You too."

"Hey, you missed out on all the pictures we took, let's take some now!" Yamada changed the subject. They wouldn't see each other in quite a while so they shouldn't just mop around. Aizawa was not impressed by the idea, but when Yamada sat up on the bed and sat right next to him he tilted his head towards the blonde as he held up his phone. Within minutes Yamada's camera roll filled up with new pictures of them both.

"You should leave soon, if you don't want to be late." Aizawa said eventually as he took notice of the time.

"I guess." Yamada said and sat up on the bed. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?" He reminded Aizawa.

"Don't trouble yourself. It will be fine if you don't." He said.

The door fell shut and Aizawa stood alone in the quiet house. Dinner with his foster parents also was a quiet affair. He appreciated that. They did not try to get him to talk more than usual or try to talk him out of things last minute. They asked if he finished packing and if he still needed something, as if anything was worth the trouble of going out this late at night. There were plenty of stores with the same products where he moved. He let them know he had everything he needed and stayed seated at the table after dinner. They drank tea and let it sink in that things would be different from now on.

The night seemed to drag on forever and Aizawa barely slept. He got up early, even earlier than he had to, so he could make breakfast for everyone. He made his host parents favorite tea, put six slices of bread in the toaster oven and got out a pot to make miso soup. He didn't have to cook but even he could make something as simple as miso soup with tofu and seaweed. He set out the jam for the bread and got out some plates when his host parents came out.

Aizawa checked his phone when he got his suitcase after breakfast. No new messages showed up. The blonde sent him a few photos during the night, so Aizawa knew his classmates drank alcohol and stayed up until the early morning hours. He tried to ignore the slight pang in his chest. It was good Yamada had fun last night. He should rest now. They could talk over the phone later, he told himself pocketing his phone. He looked around the room one final time. It was clean and he already pulled the sheets off and put them into the washing machine.

"Remember you can call us anytime." His host mother told him as they stood in the entrance. Aizawa gave a slight nod to signal he heard her as he tied his shoes.

"Don't hesitate to ask for help." Her husband added.

"Thank you. For everything." Aizawa said, looking them in the eyes. He even gave both a hug before he stepped outside and pulled his suitcase to the station.

When Aizawa arrived at the nearest tram station, he realized he gave Yamada the time his other train would leave from the bigger train station. So even if the blonde intended to come he might have thought of the wrong place. He checked his phone but no new notifications showed up. Aizawa pocketed his phone as the tram came to a stop. The small tram was packed with people going to work and Aizawa shuffled to the door, pulling his suitcase as close as possible. He gave an apologetic nod to an older lady close to him. Aizawa focused his eyes outside the window looking at the familiar houses and stores passing by.

Finally the tram reached the central station. He arrived with some time to spare and checked his phone while he stood waiting at the platform. He felt a little forgotten but tried his best to push the feeling aside. He told Yamada not to worry about coming, so it wasn't fair to be mad at him for not showing up.

He could hear his train enter the station and then, even louder than the arriving train his name. "Aizawaaaaaaa!" He knew that voice.

Aizawa turned around to the direction the call had come from and saw Yamada running into the station. Several people held their ears and stared at the blond in irritation. He would have to get to this platform, but the train just arrived so there was enough time. Aizawa couldn't help but smile.

When Yamada finally came running down the stairs he looked like he would throw up any second. "The things I do for you." he huffed out of breath when he came to a stop in front of Aizawa.

"I told you, you didn't have to come." Aizawa said, but his smile gave him away.

"Please just tell me you are happy to see me so that it was worth coming." Yamada begged. He wore a t-shirt with an unidentifiable stain on it and one of his shoelaces was open. He was very pale and his unstyled hair hung in his face.

"Yeah. I'm happy." Aizawa gave in. "Thank's for coming." He said just as Yamada stepped away from him and threw up over the other side of the platform where no train was.

"Are you alright?" Aizawa asked, holding the other's hair back. Other people were stared more or less subtly.

"Ugh..." Yamada groaned. Aizawa glanced at the clock, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He said and jogged to a vending machine to get some water.

"Thank's." Yamada said after he washed his mouth out and took a sip. "Sorry about that." He said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Do you need money for a taxi back?" Aizawa asked.

"No, no! It's fine. Keep your money! I still have some." Yamada said. He pulled his walled out in demonstration. He knew Aizawa did not have much saved up and he doubted he suddenly accepted more from his host family.

"If you're sure." Aizawa said.

"Actually, let me pay you back for this." Yamada held up the bottle Aizawa just got him.

"It's just water." Aizawa shook his head.

"Alright. Thanks." Yamada put his wallet away again. They stood in silence for a moment after that.

"Well...-" Yamada tried to break the silence.

"I have to get on the train soon." Aizawa said at the same time.

"Ah...right. Well...I'll hear from you soon right? Send pictures!"

"Of roaches. Sure." Aizawa couldn't help but tease with a smirk.

"I got up and came all the way here and this is how you thank me?!" Yamada said so loud he winced himself. He hadn't even spoken that loud but with his head already pounding every decibel felt like too much.

"We'll see." Aizawa said and reached for his suitcase. Should he give Yamada a hug? His arms twitched, though he kept them at his side. "Get some rest." he said, taking a step back.

"You too!" Yamada nodded, wincing once more at his own volume.

"Thank's for coming." Aizawa said, standing in the train's doorway. "Bye."

"Bye." Yamada said a little quieter now, but with a smile on his face while he waved. The blonde was always so positive and energetic. It was nice. Aizawa waved as the door closed, then moved to look for his seat.

It was a window seat and he waved once more once he sat down. Yamada waved with two arms as the train began to move.

This was it.

Aizawa's chest felt tight as the train drove out of Musutafu. So many memories were connected to the city. Good, as well as bad. He gulped down the lump that formed in his throat and pressed his shirt's sleeve against his eyes. A new chapter of his life started with his move to Naruhata. There was no turning back now.

More chapters of Bounty Hunter in the Shadows on Ao3 :)

[glimmerglanger]

Hello, hope you're having a good day. Here's a prompt for your spicy Sundays/whenever: obikin, sex pollen/aphrodisiacs, but sex happens *after* the pollen/substance wears off. I see it as not yet established relationship, with background pining, and much 'must not give into this' during the exposure to the pollen/substance. Who is the one exposed-or both are?-I leave up to you. Feel free to ignore this, if this scenario is something that holds no interest for you. As always, I love your work.

:DDD! So, this ended up with no actual sex happening, it’s all dealing with waiting for the substance too wear off. But it’s still...very explicit and spicy. So much dirty talk and...giving oneself a hand? 

SPICY SUNDAY FIC. Set during the Clone Wars. I guess technically pre-Obikin? Warnings for non-consensual use of an aphrodisiac, but, again, no contact happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enough things had gone wrong in Obi-Wan’s life for him to begin to feel suspicious when things went well. Master Yoda would, inevitably, have something to say about that, if Obi-Wan ever had the opportunity to mention it. 

He shoved those thoughts aside with a punchy laugh, engaged the lock on the quarters he and Anakin had received, when they arrived on Marilk, and leaned his shoulder against the door. There was a curse from the other side of the door, barely a moment later, and then Anakin said, “Obi-Wan, this isn’t funny, let me out.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that quite yet,” Obi-Wan said, turning to rest his back against the door. He nodded, flashing a strained smile, at a few of the Marilkians who had followed them from the feasting hall.

They were near-human, perhaps slightly taller than average and tending towards unusual hair colors: blues and greens seemed to predominate. They’d been friendly enough. Very friendly, really. It had made Obi-Wan’s spine itchy and he’d tried to set aside that worry….

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, from the other side of the door, strain in his voice, “I’m serious. I--”

“So am I,” Obi-Wan said, and, to prove it, he sank to sit in front of the door, folding his legs. He put his hands on his knees and breathed slow and deep. He’d worked so diligently not to worry, to not jump at shadows, and for his trouble, Anakin was--

Pounding on the door at his back, the strain in his voice getting thicker as he said, “You have to let me out, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s better that you stay in there,” Obi-Wan said, working to maintain his calm and to project it towards Anakin. He worked, at the same time, to release everything he was picking up from Anakin, everything that had been pouring out of him since Anakin picked up Obi-Wan’s cup during their dinner and downed it.

Their host - the High Chancellor - had seemed ever so unhappy about that. That had been, really, the first obvious sign that something was wrong.

Additional obvious signs had followed shortly, as Anakin’s heart rate spiked up, as he grew flushed, as his signature in the Force shifted. Lust was always easy to pick up in the Force. It yelled and shouted, pushed outwards, needy and full of hunger.

The High Chancellor had explained, when faced with their sudden suspicions and sharp tempers, what he had done. He claimed that whatever he’d slipped into Obi-Wan’s drink was quite harmless. Only meant to increase one’s enjoyment of an evening’s delights.

Obi-Wan had taken Anakin from the room before he lost the fight with his temper. Punching a dignitary would not be an acceptable resolution to their current situation. And so he had brought Anakin back to their rooms, away from prying eyes and wandering hands.

He’d expected, really, for Anakin to put up a fight about it, but he’d gone willingly enough. The protests only started after the door shut between them. Anakin banged something against the other side of the door and said, “Obi-Wan, please, I can’t stay in here.”

“Yes, you can,” Obi-Wan told him, ignoring the rush of lust and want he got back. Anakin was spilling it everywhere, directly across their bond, into Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and exhaled it, even as he felt a flush creep up his neck. “Try to meditate, it’ll--”

Anakin laughed, sharply. Obi-Wan heard it through the door. “Meditating is not going to help me right now,” he said. “I need--”

“A cold shower?” Obi-Wan suggested, thinking he would not mind one himself. He tried, very hard, not to think about the way Anakin had shoved him against the wall, about the slant of Anakin’s mouth against his, before he’d managed to slide from the room.

“No,” Anakin said, hoarse. “That’s not it at all.”

“You haven’t even tried it,” Obi-Wan said, casting a frown down the hall when one of the Marilkians tried to take a step closer. He would have very much liked to go to a different set of quarters, to climb into a fresher and meditate until the burn of want in his blood went away, but he did not trust their hosts to keep their hands to themselves.

He could not very well leave Anakin alone. Not in his current condition.

“I know what’ll help,” Anakin said, thickly. “I’ll show you, just open the door.”

“You know I won’t,” Obi-Wan said, breathing slowly and steadily. They’d get through this. He’d heard of plenty of similar drugs. It would likely burn from Anakin’s system in an hour, perhaps two. Perhaps less. Use of the Force tended to make the metabolism of Jedi very high. 

“Please,” Anakin said, apparently unwilling to take any of Obi-Wan’s advice. “Please, I know I was a little rough, at first, but I’ll - I’ll be gentle with you, if you just open the door.”

Obi-Wan felt a shiver down his back. He exhaled, carefully. Inhaled. Counted to five. Resolutely did not think about his shoulders against the wall, about Anakin pressed against him, mouth hungry and greedy, hands tugging at Obi-Wan’s robes--

“Does that sound nice?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could feel the pressure of his want and need, crackling across their bond. “I could make it so nice for you.”

“You need to go meditate,” Obi-Wan said, working to keep his voice even. Unaffected, despite the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks. He tried to allow the words to simply flow out of his mind. Anakin didn’t know what he was saying. Didn’t mean to say any of it. He was not in control of himself.

“I told you, meditating won’t help,” Anakin rasped, and was quiet for a time. And then he made another sound, lower. Guttural. Sometime else curled through his signature in the Force. Pleasure. Building quickly, too. Obi-Wan stared at the far wall, breath catching in the back of his throat.

He asked, knowing it was a mistake, but unable to help it, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Anakin asked, a snap in his voice, frustration and desire all tangled up in his presence in the Force. “I’m touching myself, since you won’t come in here and help me. I’m--”

“Anakin,” he cut in, standing, because he could not--

“Oh, fuck,” Anakin panted, and Obi-Wan could feel it when he found release; it sung across their connection, a brief little flare of relief that had Obi-Wan curling his hands into fists under his robes. It was far too easy to imagine Anakin on the other side of the door, his trousers open, his hand moving over his cock until he’d--

Obi-Wan tilted his face up to the ceiling, wrestled with control, and asked, “Are you feeling better, now?”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t need to answer, really. Obi-Wan felt the answer before he spoke. “No,” Anakin ground out. “No, it only helped for a moment.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. He’d dared to hope, for an instant. He cleared his throat. “Mediation could--”

“Kriffing hell, Obi-Wan, I don’t want to meditate. I just want you to come in here with me.” Anakin sounded strained. “I want you to lick all this come off of my fingers, and--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, ears burning, even as he jerked a step away from the door. The sheer explicit nature of what he was saying made Obi-Wan’s gut get tighter, against all his best efforts. “That’s enough, you--”

“It’s not enough,” Anakin countered, his breathing getting shakier. “You don’t know half the things I want you to do. Fuck.” He was quiet, for a moment, quiet enough that Obi-Wan imagined he could hear Anakin touching himself again, right through the door. “I’d - I’d be so nice, if you’d just open the door, Obi-Wan, if you just - just put your mouth on me. You’d feel so good, sucking my cock.”

Obi-Wan’s hands ached, from how tightly he had them clenched. His jaw seemed to have welded itself shut, too. He could only stare at the door, burning all across his face and down his throat, listening to Anakin pant, “Fuck, I promise I’d go easy, I’d - I bet you’re so good at it, I’ve always thought you’d be so good at it, do you like sucking cock, Obi-Wan? Because, I have to say, your mouth--”

He strangled off, then, with a ragged groan that Obi-Wan swore he felt down his spine. His gut felt hard and tight. He felt strung out, himself, but he’d not taken any of the drug that was affecting Anakin so, and so he breathed, in and out, and sought balance.

He asked, even, “Is it finished?”

Anakin laughed, ragged, from the other side of the door. “Come in and find out,” he suggested.

Obi-Wan frowned, wishing his heart would slow down. “Anakin, that’s--”

“Please,” Anakin gasped out, cutting through every piece of advice Obi-Wan wanted to offer him. “Please, I need your help, Obi-Wan, I need you.”

Obi-Wan was back at the door before he could stop himself. He pressed both hands against the metal, head bowing over. In a way, he wished that he had consumed some of the substance. If they were both in this same situation, they’d at least be on an even playing field. 

As it was, he could only stand sentinel. Only listen. Anakin was quiet, for a long time. Obi-Wan could hear soft, wet sounds from inside the room. Groans, sometimes, but at least he’d stopped talking. It didn’t mitigate the surge of his want and desire, but Obi-Wan knew how to process those emotions, to accept and release them.

He kept his peace until Anakin made a soft, pained sound, and then he asked, “Are you--alright?”

Anakin snorted. He thumped something against the other side of the door. “Starting to feel chaffed,” he said, his voice closer to a rasp than Obi-Wan had ever heard it. 

Obi-Wan could imagine, and tried not to, not wanting to imagine Anakin slumped against the wall, touching himself, already covered with his own mess--

“Is it getting any better?” he asked, focusing on what mattered.

Anakin was quiet for a moment, and then let out a muffled groan. Obi-Wan heard his name, tangled in the noise. When Anakin spoke again, his voice was ragged. “I still want to hold you down and fuck you raw,” he said, words all sharp edges, “but I think I could hold back long enough to work you open on my fingers, now. Is that better, do you think?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, trying to formulate any kind of reply, and Anakin must have been feeling slightly better, because he projected the image through the Force; Obi-Wan, on his stomach, robes just gone, with Anakin stretched over him, fingers moving--

Obi-Wan sunk teeth into his tongue, working to hold back the sound that tried to rise in his throat. “I want to open you up,” Anakin went on, before Obi-Wan returned to anything like stability. “I want to see the way you take me. I bet you’d take me so well, so tight and hot around my cock--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan managed to grit out, overheated under his robes, his cheeks on fire, his gut tight and--

And his cock embarrassingly hard, under his robes.

“Can you come from being fucked?” Anakin asked, breath starting to hitch. “Or would you like me to touch you? While I’m filling you up? I would, if you wanted, I’d make it so good for you, Obi-Wan, I promise. I’d--fuck, reach around you, touch you, I’d--”

The projection shifted, and Obi-Wan bit the insides of his cheeks, curling his head forward, wishing he’d drank the damned stuff. He would have sat in the shower and sorted this out on his own. He wouldn’t have tormented Anakin, he’d have--

“I’d keep fucking you, after you came,” Anakin panted, voice quaking. “Would you like that? Hm?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan blurted, and regretted it, immediately, but he was--was breathing shakily, himself, leaning against the door, overheating. Hard and aching, from Anakin’s words and his want, overflowing through the Force, and--

“What the kriff do you mean you don’t know?” Anakin asked, ragged. “You don’t--”

“I’ve never,” Obi-Wan started, and then stopped, tongue catching against the back of his teeth. And Anakin swore, on the other side of the door, and Obi-Wan felt it when he came. Obi-Wan sunk teeth into his bottom lip and drew on the Force and his cock stayed hard and aching.

He did not fall over the edge. Did not take advantage. Did not - not let Anakin’s words while he was out of his head drive him to that. Anakin deserved better than that.

For a moment, there was no sound but their ragged breathing, there in the hall. And then Anakin cleared his throat and said, quietly, the lust fading out of his signature in the Force, replaced with something like embarrassment, like mortification, “I - I think it’s, ah, over.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He collected himself, putting together the ragged edges of his emotions. He said, straightening, ignoring the ache of his cock, “Good. I’m very glad to hear it. Let’s just...wait a few more minutes. Before I come to check on you.”

“Fuck,” Anakin said, voice cracking a little. “Yes, actually, if you could--just wait--maybe. I need to--uh. I need to shower. And - and clean up. Just. Just wait, a bit, alright?” And Obi-Wan nodded, turned, put his shoulders against the wall, and slid down, ignoring the buzzing hum of his pulse.

[anna-justice]

Not a Race - Upstead

Summary: Jay and Will revisit a conversation they had years ago, and this time it has a happy ending. (I promise Hailey shows up later lol)

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff

Requested: No

…

Jay pulled up in front of his and Hailey’s now shared apartment, putting the truck in park. “I’ll see you at Molly’s later?” He asked his girlfriend, confirming their plans. 

“Yes Jay.” Hailey said, rolling her eyes. “I will be there at nine, the exact same time I said I was going to be there five times today.” 

“And who are you supposed to pick up?” Jay questioned, smirking at her.

“Trudy.” Jay gave her a pointed look, “I am supposed to fake an emergency, but bring her to Molly’s instead.” 

Jay smiled at Hailey, finding her annoyance adorable. “I love you.” He said, his demeanor softening a bit. 

Hailey’s grumpy look faded and she leaned across the center console, pecking him on the lips. “I love you too.” Jay reached out and pulled her back to him, kissing her again. Hailey smiled into it before reluctantly pulling away. “You gotta go,” she sighed. “How’d you get roped into to doing this anyway?” She asked as she opened the truck door. 

“Kim.” Jay said, and Hailey nodded. “Five year anniversaries are a big deal apparently.” 

“Apparently.” Hailey laughed, shutting the door. Jay rolled down the window, not quite ready to leave yet. “Platt and Mouch better appreciate it, they’ve stolen so much of my Jay time lately.” 

Jay chuckled, “Babe, we work together...and live together. You see me at least twenty-three hours out of the day.”

Hailey shrugged, “It’s not enough.” She smirked at him before heading towards the front door. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Wear something pretty.” Jay called at her, laughing.

 After he was sure she was safely inside, he pulled out of the parking spot and out of the parking lot. He made the short drive to his brother's apartment, where Will was waiting for him. He was feeling a little jittery, so he opted for the stairs to hopefully wear him out a little bit. “Hey man.” He said, entering the apartment. (He had a key in case Will ever did something stupid...like lose his.)

“Hey.” Will said, getting up off the couch and heading towards the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” He asked.

“No, I’m good.” Jay said, leaning against his counter. 

“How are you feeling?” Will asked, taking a sip of the water bottle he got himself. 

Jay shrugged, “I’m good.” Will eyed him, “Listen man, I know we talked about it before, but I just want to make sure that it’s okay...again.” Jay thought back to what felt like a lifetime ago, a few days before Erin left for New York. 

Jay stood in front of the whiteboard with Will, looking through photos of victims from their recent drug case. “At least you guys get overtime.” Will said, before fishing in his pocket, Will pulled a red velvet box, surprising Jay. Will had seemed so against him proposing to Erin that he was sure he wouldn’t let him near their mom’s ring. “Mom’s ring. She always said it’s not a race, but whoever meets the right girl first gets the ring.”

Jay took the box in his hands, chuckling. “Hmm.” His mom was so important to him, and having Erin wear her ring felt like the blessing they needed, like his mom was a part of it.

Will watched his brother with caution, but smiled kindly. “You sure about this?” Jay stared blankly at him and Will nodded, he always knew he was the king of stupid questions. “You tell dad?”

“Why do I have to tell dad? It’s mom’s ring, not his.” Jay rushed out, immediately jumping down his brother's throat. Kevin interrupted them before Will could say anything, but Jay walked away feeling confident in his decision. 

And he was, maybe even as confident as he was now. Jay pulled the same velvet box out of his pocket and set it on the counter. “Will, I’m sure.” He said, and this time he had the words to express how he was feeling. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life, but I already had one chance with this ring and if you want it-”

“Jay.” Will said, cutting him off. “I know mom always said it wasn’t a race, but you won. Hailey is…”

“The most amazing person that I have ever met.” Jay sighed out.

Will laughed, “I was going to say ‘going to love it,’ but that works too.” 

Jay beamed at his brother, taking the box back in his hand. “She’s the one Will, I know it. And I never thought I would say this, but I wish I could tell dad.” 

Will placed a comforting hand on his brother’s back, “He knows man. They both do.” 

Jay took a big breath and laughed nervously. “I’m proposing.” He said.

“Yeah, you are.” Will said, sharing his brother’s obvious joy. All he ever wanted was for Jay to be happy, and he knew without a doubt that Hailey was it for him. 

“You think she’ll say yes?” Jay asked in a teasing voice. 

Will laughed loudly, “I’d say it’s a solid 80 percent.”

...

About an hour later Jay was back in his truck headed to Molly’s. It was almost seven o’clock, two hours from Hailey’s arrival and the unit had a lot to do before she got there. Almost like she could hear him thinking about her, he got a text.

Hailes: I know I’m bringing Trudy, but who is in charge of Mouch? Shouldn’t they be coming together?

Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. 

Jay: Ritter is getting Mouch. Don’t worry about it, we have a plan.

Hailes: Okay, whatever you say.

Jay sighed, he would admit a fake anniversary party was a little lame, but the only other thing he could think of was a fake baby shower and something told him that it wouldn’t really be appropriate to throw one of those in a bar.

Hailes: Also, “in charge” Jay is kinda sexy...you should help throw parties more often.

Jay smirked at his phone while he sat in the parking lot, shaking his head he texted back.

Jay: Good to know ;)

Jay: Get ready for the best birthday of your life.

When he pulled the door open, he was met with Kim shouting orders at Herrmann, Mouch, Kevin and Adam. Most of the decorations were already hung and he was informed that there were ten bottles of champagne hidden behind the counter. 

“Wow. It looks amazing in here.” He looked at Kim directly. “Thank you.”

Kim grinned, “Of course! It’s not everyday that one of my oldest friends proposes to my best friend.” She says, playfully punching his arm. Vanessa had been gone for over a year and in that time Hailey and Kim had gotten really close, they all had. After years of losing one person after another, the members of intelligence felt more like a family than they ever had before. 

“This is crazy, isn’t it?” Jay asked, Adam and Kevin trickling into the conversation. 

“It’s a long time coming, that’s for sure.” Adam said, wrapping his arm around Kim. 

Kevin scoffed, “Oh, like you can talk.” He teased. 

Jay’s nerves got worse and worse, “This isn’t too much right?” Jay asked his friends, “You think she’ll like it?”

“Jay.” Kim said, gaining his attention. “You could slip a ring pop on Hailey’s finger in front of the district and she would love it, because she loves you. But this,” She gestures around the room, “this is beautiful and incredibly sweet and romantic. This is everything she deserves.” 

Jay smiles with pride, he wants to be everything she deserves, but Hailey Upton deserves the entire world and he wouldn’t mind spending his entire life trying to give her that. “Burgess, we just need to get you a t-shirt that says ‘I’m basically a hallmark card.’” Kevin says, motioning across his chest. 

“Let’s have a toast.” Kim says and on que Herrmann has glasses ready for them. 

Kevin raises his glass, “To the OGs.”

Kim rolls her eyes, but raises her glass as well, “To Jay and Hailey.” 

Jay raises his glass and so does Adam, giving a toast of his own. “To upstead.” 

Jay lowers his arm and glares at Adam, “Man, you have got to stop calling us that.”

“Anyway,” Kim says, “To love.”

“True love.” Adam interjects.

“Adam.” Kim snaps.

“What, you're the only one that gets to be a hallmark card? That’s not fair.”

“How about this,” Jay says, raising his glass again. “To me not shitting my pants before she gets here.”

They all laugh, “I’ll drink to that,” Kevin says shrugging and then all down their drinks. 

…

At eight forty-five Jay stood at the bar, his hands sweaty and his knees a little shaky. It was fifteen minutes until go time and he got more anxious by the second. He was pretty sure she was going to say yes, but he wanted it to be perfect for her. As perfect as she was for him. 

Most of their friends have arrived and were talking amongst themselves around the perimeter of the bar, leaving room for Hailey to eventually make her way down the middle to Jay. Everyone was buzzing, taking in the decorations and consuming copious amounts of alcohol, something that Jay had decided against doing even though he would love a beer (or five) right about now.

At three til nine, he got a text from Hailey stating that they had arrived and Jay shushed everyone, standing in the middle of the room to wait for his (hopefully) future wife. 

Hailey walked down the sidewalk with the desk sergeant, hiding her smile. She was excited to see what her friends had come up with for the happy couple. They reached the door and Hailey smirked at Trudy, “Hey sarge.”

“Upton?”

“Happy anniversary.”

This time Trudy smirked, “It isn’t my anniversary.”

“What-” Hailey started, but froze in her spot as she opened the door. The sight in front of her was breathtaking. The usual fairy lights were still hung up, but also hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of pictures, pictures of her and Jay. Hailey felt her eyes welling up with tears, she took a few steps forward, looking around to see all of her closest friends, her family. At a closer look, she could see all of the tables had empty bottles of various alcohols, all labeled with dates and cards with memories. 

He was grinning ear to ear, but when she saw him, it somehow got even bigger. “Jay.” She laughed out.

“Hey.” He said, meeting her in the middle of the room. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you decorated for the wrong couple.” She joked. 

“Oh no, really?” He gasped and Hailey laughed. 

Jay took her in, she was wearing her signature black jeans and a blue sweater. She looked as beautiful as ever, and he was ready. “Quite the crowd…” She whispered. 

“I know, I’m a little nervous.” He said, reaching out to take her hand in his. “Hailey Anne Upton, there are not enough words to describe how much I love you. And I have never been good at expressing my feelings, you know that better than anyone. But I have said it a million times and I will say it a million more: I would follow you anywhere. I looked at you and knew you were the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I looked at you and I trusted you, I have trusted you since the day I met you. I look at you, and I’ve got it. I look at you and I see the rest of my life, I see that you are everything I have ever wanted and more. I look at you and I know that you are it for me, there will never be anyone like you Hailey.”

Hailey felt the tears begin to roll down her face, he used her own words against her. Jay reached in his pocket, pulling out just a ring. “This is my mother’s ring, and for so long she was the most important woman in my life. But she has been gone for a long time and Hailey you have taken that place, and she would have loved you. So,” Jay said, finally getting down on one knee. “Will you make me the luckiest man alive, and marry me?”

Hailey took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. “Yes.” She choked out before launching herself into his arms. Jay caught her with ease and kissed her passionately as their friends cheered for them. Jay reluctantly set Hailey back down on the floor, pressing another kiss to her lips before stepping back and finally slipping the ring on her finger. 

“Perfect fit.” He said, pulling her to him and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” He said, peeking down at her.

“I love you so much.” She hugged him tighter, “And I cannot wait to be your wife.”

“Let’s just elope, we can get married tomorrow.” Jay said.

Hailey scoffed, “That’s a funny joke, Kim would kill me.” 

“Good point.” He said, holding her tightly. “I’m thinking of a June wedding.”

“Did you really just say that?” Hailey burst out laughing.

Jay grimaced, “We don’t have to talk about it…”

Hailey turned to face him, pressing her palms to his chest. “How about this? We can get married whenever and wherever you want, as long as you wear your thigh holster during the whole ceremony.”

Jay gave her a shocked look, “Please tell me you aren’t kidding.”

Hailey got up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I’m dead serious.” 

“Thank God.”

The happy couple accepted some congratulations before sneaking over to the bar. It had turned into a full on party, Herrmann turned the music up and everything. “You know, Hailey Halstead has a nice ring to it.” She confessed as she leaned into Jay. 

“I think so.” He said, beaming at her.

“Excuse me everyone.” Kim said, clinking her glass as they were passed around to everyone. She raised hers, “To the happy couple, I love you both and I am so happy for you. We all are.”

“And to the fact that Jay didn’t shit his pants!” Adam interjected from beside her.

“What?” Hailey whispered under her breath.

“Don’t worry about it…” Jay muttered, mentally punching Adam in the face.

Kim shrugged, “Sure.” They all raised their glasses and cheered. Jay set his and Hailey’s down and dipped her dramatically, bringing his lips to hers once again.

“I love you Jay Halstead,” She said as he brought her back to a standing position.

“I love you too, the future Mrs. Hailey Halstead.”

…

A/N: I watched the clip from 4x23 and then debated posting this idea just as a discussion comment, but then I was like “why not” and I just wrote it! I’m so glad I did, I wrote it so fast and loved writing it. I also hope that this didn’t come off as Erin bashing, I try not to write like that. I was the biggest linstead fan and I still love Erin, I just have moved on from linstead and wanted to show the potential parallels. Anyway, I promise I will update Lost or Found soon, it’s been crazy the past few months and I honestly haven’t had the motivation to write, but the scooby gang will be back soon! Thank you so much for reading! <3

[sylvies-chen]

Welp, I loved your the last response to my ask, so here goes again! You’re totally welcome to ignore or hold off if you’re exhausted or not in the mood... but chenford prompt #2:

“You don't even know me, it's only a feeling

You gotta believe me

Darling, I'm just saying, there ain't no shame in

Admitting you're lonely.”

- “Pieces” by Declan J. Donovan

Thank you, I’m glad you guys are liking these! I’ve gotten a swarm of requests but they’ve been super fun to write for so I’m definitely not complaining lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one, I went for one of my favourite tropes!

//

Lucy knows better than to cross professional boundaries. 

At least she thinks she does until one night when she has to go on an overnight stakeout with Tim. 

In a hotel. 

Normally they just wait for the suspect out in their designated undercover car, drinking coffee to stay awake and alert. But there aren’t any good vantage points from a safe distance and the deal is going down in the hotel anyway, at a time during the weekend that they aren’t yet sure of. It’s an important meeting from some hotshot criminal named Miles Lerner, allegedly happening at the hotel, so Grey sends them there overnight to take pictures and gather intel first during their stakeout before making the bust. 

They arrive at the hotel late into the night, check in under false names, make sure they’re in their plain clothes. The receptionist seems disinterested, hardly looking up from her computer as she asks, “Would you like to book a room?” 

“Yes, please,” Lucy starts but Tim taps her on the shoulder and draws her attention to the hotel room that their suspect is walking into. He gives her a look, which she picks up on and asks in an innocent tone, “Do you possibly have a room down that hallway? I like to stay close to the vending machines, we never pack enough food.” She pats Tim’s shoulder and Tim goes with it. If they’re going to keep their cover, they might as well make it believable. 

“Yeah… babe,” he stutters. He looks nervous as he wraps his arm around her waist and puts on a smile that looks way too forced. Lucy finds it kind of adorable, has to actively stop herself from picturing their life together as a married couple. 

It’s not that she wants to. She doesn’t have feelings for Tim. At least, she doesn’t think she does. But Emmett had broken up with her mere weeks ago and Tim had been there to comfort her. The only logical explanation is that she feels emotional and lonely after a breakup and Tim was the first person she’s seen. She chalks it up to that, tries to brush off whatever residual feelings she thinks might be there, and smiles back at the hotel receptionist. 

“That can be arranged.” The receptionist types into her computer, squints at the screen and then passes them a set of room key cards. “There you go. Your room will be right down that hall, first one on the left.” 

“Thank you,” Lucy smiles. She and Tim make their way to their room, luckily right across from their suspect’s room. 

Tim fidgets with the key, the door only unlocking after the third try. They walk in and throughout all of the beautiful things about the room, the big window, the clean sheets, the cute vintage pictures on the wall, Lucy and Tim’s eyes are both drawn to the one thing they can’t ignore. 

The one bed sitting in the middle of their room. 

“Shit,” Tim curses, “You didn’t think to mention that we needed two beds?” 

“Well, it was a little hard to concentrate with your hand around my waist. How is this even my fault? You were there too, you know.” she whacks his chest with the back of her hand, dropping her bags on the table in their room.

“Okay. Well… I can take the couch then.” 

“No no, I should take it,” she argues sympathetically. “I’m shorter, I have an actual chance of fitting on the couch.” 

“Okay, if you insist,” he caves in after a while. He puts his own bags on the bed, unpacks the duffle bag with their work gear. His phone starts ringing, so he takes the call. Lucy doesn’t know who it is but figures it’s Grey from the fact that Tim uses his professional voice as he works his way through a series of the regular “yes, I understand” and “got it” and “okay, thanks”. He hangs up after a few minutes, turns to Lucy who’s waiting in anticipation. 

“So?” 

“That was Grey,” he explains. “He says there’s new intel saying the drop isn’t happening until tomorrow morning but we have a good view of their room from here so he’s not pulling us out. We can relax for now, get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.” 

Lucy nods, looking around the room nervously. Tim goes into the bathroom first to change, and then Lucy goes after him. It’s weird, seeing each other in such casual clothing. Lucy’s pyjamas consist solely of an oversized graphic tee of Jimin from BTS and a pair of shorts that are much shorter than what is considered professional. Tim tosses her one of the blankets from the bed and she spreads it out on the couch, slithering into it as she settles into the couch that has now become her bed. 

“This guy we’re after, Lerner. He’s married, has a wife and kids. You think they know that he’s a major drug dealer?” She asks him from her couch, stares up at the ceiling as he gets into his own bed. 

“I doubt he brings his shady business back home with him but I’m sure his wife suspects something. We tried bringing her in for questioning years ago without telling her why but that just scared this guy off. Went off the radar for months.” 

“Still, it must be nice to have someone worried for you, wondering if you’re going to be there when you get home…” She drifts off, thinks of how nice it would be. Of how much she misses that, how much she wants to find the one. 

“You’re really taking this breakup with Emmett to heart, aren’t you?” He sits up in his bed momentarily, rolls over and props himself up with his elbow to face her while looking at her sympathetically. “Listen, Chen, he didn’t deserve you. You’re… you’re good. And smart. And if he doesn’t see that, then you’re better off without him.” 

“Thanks,” she replies shyly. “It’s not about Emmett, really. I just… Dating is fun, sure. But I want the one, you know? That guy who you feel so lucky just to wake up next to. The smiling like an idiot and the fun banter and the exciting stuff. I want the whole package, you know? It just gets… lonely, sometimes.” She’s still staring up at the ceiling and so is he now, the two of them sitting in silence. “Whatever. It’s just stupid pipe dream,” she brushes it off with a weak laugh, “We should get some sleep.” 

He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it again. “Goodnight, Lucy,” he settles on eventually, his voice low and raspy, soothing to her soul. 

“Goodnight,” she replies in almost a whisper. The word feels so intimate, so sensitive coming out of her lips. And it does while coming out of his mouth well. She doesn’t know what to think of these feelings stirring in her stomach, so she turns the lamp next to the couch and the whole room goes dark as she rests her head against the pillows of the couch. 

An hour later, Lucy’s still awake, and just. 

The pillows are really hard. 

It’s very noticeable, combined with the weird, grainy texture of the fabric and the tacky tassels dangling in her face. She tries to fall asleep, tries to ignore all of the factors contributing to her discomfort. But then, she’s glancing over subtly at Tim’s bed, and just. Ok. She’s not the type of person to be bold and make a move. And that’s not what she’s doing here at all. But it’s a really, really uncomfortable couch, and she just wants to get some shuteye. “Tim? Are you awake?” She whispers quietly in case he isn’t. 

“... Yes,” he mumbles back in the dark. “I can’t fall asleep. Lucy sits up on the couch, sees him staring at the ceiling as he talks and then moving his gaze to her. 

“Me neither,” she replies. Silence falls over the room again. After a moment, Lucy gets up off the couch, tiptoes her way to the bed and leans over the side of the bed that Tim isn’t occupying. 

It’s just a bed, she tells herself. Figures it’s for professional purposes, that she needs sleep to perform at her best. She knows she’s lying to herself, but at this point, she’s too tired and, quite frankly, too lonely to care. 

Tim turns on his side, faces her now and watches her with confusion as she crawls into the bed. “Lucy—”

“Just… shut up, okay?” She pulls the blankets over her, turns on her side so that her back is facing Tim. She leaves a big gap between them, making sure to just focus on getting a good night’s sleep. 

“Okay,” he whispers. Then, as if he purposely tries to put a wrench in Lucy’s plans, Tim closes the gap between them and wraps an arm around her side from behind her. His head is snuggled into the crook of her neck, his breathing slow and steady, and just. Lucy doesn’t even know if she’s breathing, has to remind herself to inhale and exhale. Her heart’s racing fast just from his touch. 

Maybe it’s that she’s lonely. Maybe she’s just that she’s sleep-deprived and out of her mind. She doesn’t know. But as Lucy feels his breathing on her neck and shoulders, melts under his tight, steady embrace, she feels more with him than she had with Emmett, or with Nolan, or with any other guy, really. 

She learns that falling asleep is a lot easier when you’re wrapping up in Tim Bradford’s arms.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Two

Wattpad

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, violence, sexual situations

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"Ah!" I squeal with a small giggle laced through it, Nikki's lips pressing to my shoulder while he pulls out of me and his cum spills on the inside of my thighs that are wide open.

My leg's hooked over his hip as he lays behind me with his arm snaking around my waist, between my breasts, while his hand has a solid hold on my throat.

When he's done, he's pressing one last kiss to my cheek before rolling over on his back, reaching for something on his night table.

I shift to my back, staring up at the mirrored ceiling to see him holding something out to me.

I turn my head to look at him just as he's taking my hand and sliding my wedding ring back on, pressing a little kiss to my hand before grabbing at my jaw assertively, kissing me.

"Apology accepted." I say once he pulls away.

"Yeah, ditto." He chuckles, kissing me one last time before I'm giving out a content sigh and sitting up to go shower.

Once I get out, I dry off and wrap myself in a towel, brushing through my wet hair with my fingers as I step into our bedroom to get some lotion on and get dressed.

"Wait, wait." Nikki stops me as I squeeze lotion onto my hand and I look up at him and raise my brows, seeing him grab his camera from the drawer in the nightstand. "Okay, drop the towel and oil up nice: I'm gonna need something to keep me company while I'm in the studio for countless hours the next several weeks."

I roll my eyes and hold back a smile, throwing my towel at him and it hits him in the face.

"Woo!" He cheers, tossing the towel away and I cover my chest just as the flash goes off and I shake my head a little, ignoring him collecting the dispensed Polaroid as I start putting my moisturizer on.

When I'm finished, I'm pulling on sweat pants and hooking my bra, about to pull a tank top on.

"Hey, Viv?" Nikki asks me.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Is the Lord's prayer important?"

I furrow my brows, finding it odd that's he's asking.

"Well, it's the template Jesus gave Christians to use when praying so yes, it's very important." I reply and he nods a little.

"So...like...what is the prayer, exactly?"

I drop the tank-top in my hands, my eyes widen, and I look at him like he's lost his mind.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nikki Sixx?"

"Ha, ha." He sarcastically lets out.

"No, seriously, either you're a clone, had a bad dose of drugs, or your body is officially done with and dying and God's jabbing at you to throw one last 'hail Mary' attempt at salvation before you croak."

"No, I just wanna know what I need to say when I pray to you." He replies with a smirk and I pretend to nearly trip and fall on the floor as if it's slippery.

"Woah, woah, woah, you gotta give me a warning before you say something so slick." I tell him, grinning and he pulls me onto him, laughing. "And to answer your question, it's 'Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen'." I finish, deciding he wasn't even listening, but I have a weird feeling he's taking notes. "Seriously, though, why're you asking?" I add, my fingers fiddling with the various necklaces hanging around his neck.

A devious, childish, sneaky little tug of his lips his highlighting the "up to no good" look in his hazel eyes as his pointer finger traces the crucifix around my neck before meeting my gaze.

"Just curious."

Just a dumbass.

I finish dressing before stepping out to check the mail.

When I come back, I realize there's a handwritten note pinned to the door.

It's signed by our accountant and I roll my jaw.

It was $2,500.00 last May, which means he's been going through $5,000.00 a day.

"Uh, Nikki?!" I call coming into the house with the mail and the letter, going to our bedroom where he's plucking at his bass, waving the letter.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Sixx 1 & 2,

Sixx 1 is still spending exponential amounts of money on heroin a day. I left a warning last May, and said Nikki will either be dead or the two of you will be completely broke by May this year. That still stands because the amount being spent has doubled since then. Slow down." I read it off. "Nikki, it was $2,500.00 last time so he's saying you're currently spending $5,000.00 a day on smack?!" I raise my voice. "How the hell can someone possibly do that much heroin--or any freaking drug--in one day?!"

"Viv--"

"--That's $1.6 million a year! Did we even make that much last year!" I scream.

"We? Vivian, you've never worked a day in your fucking life. There is no 'we made', it's what I made. And because I'm the one who made the money, I can do whatever the hell I want with it so just hop off."

"Nikki, baby, we have bills, and insurance didn't cover as much on my time in the hospital and follow-ups as we had hoped so we have to spend money on necessities and not..." I trail off, calming myself down, rubbing my forehead, trying not to start crying.

"Viv, I'll handle it." He tells me after a moment of quiet between us. "Alright?"

I rub my lips together, letting out a sigh as he holds his hand out to take the stack of bills from me.

I hand them over, not saying a word more, before leaving him to continue scraping up motivation to actually write something.

He wrote "Wild Side", which completely reworks and assaults the Lord's prayer...then the bastard listed me as a co-write because, "well you told me what the prayer was to begin with so technically you helped me write it."

When the conservatives went digging around once the album was released, they dragged me through the mud when they saw my name attached to a bastardized version of something sacred to christianity and I heard every degrading, yet passive, insult any holier-than-thou Bible-biddy could throw at me.

I stopped going to church for quite a while after that because I didn't even want to face the possibility of all those people smiling in my face while thinking, "she's not the really for God."

"Valentine's Day?" I ask Doc, raising my brows. "...Really?"

"Well, they wanna get a good feel of Nikki and you're obviously a part of his life, so they figured spending Valentine's Day with you two would be pretty interesting." He explains.

"I don't want anybody getting a good feel of Nikki's anything." I reply stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, and Viv won't let me pull out the really special techniques while someone's in the house with us." Nikki adds. "And she only lets me do them on special occasions."

"Nobody's feeling anybody else, and you two sodomites can have all the fun you want once the interview is done with. It'll take four hours, tops." Doc says, looking at Nikki. "We're gonna have to start promoting the album."

This is the selling point.

Nikki sighs, rubbing his face, groaning.

"Fine." He gives up, looking at me. "We can entertain the nosy bastard for a few hours, I guess."

"I suppose." I roll my eyes.

"Thank you." Doc let's out with relief.

"Was that it?" I ask him, glancing around his office.

"Oh, yeah." He nods.

"We drove down here just for you to tell us something you could have easily called and told us over the phone?" Nikki asks next.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted to see how you look and sure enough you look like shit." Doc states and Nikki rolls his eyes. "Which reminds me, clean up your house and make yourself seem like you're not on drugs. K?" Doc gives us a parting word of advice as we stand up to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Nikki waves him off, leaving in front of me.

"Viv." Doc says to me and I nod reassuringly.

"I'll make sure he keeps it together for the interview."

"Thank you, you two be careful on the way home."

"We will, bye." I shut the door and follow Nikki out to his Jeep.

"I really don't feel like dealing with the press." He grumbles, looking at me now with his sunglasses on and I give him a small smile.

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

"I don't like people I don't fuck with in my house. It's my house. My space. It isn't a fucking amusement park that's open for review." He cranks the car and I put my seat belt on.

"Baby?"

"What?" He says a little harsh.

"It will be okay." I pat his fluffy hair. "K?"

He doesn't answer, actually pouting like a spoiled little boy.

When he ignores me, about to start driving, I raise a brow, unbuckle, and my fingers slowly fumble with the button on his jeans as his pout falters and his smirk replaces it, followed by the sound of a content, groan-filled sigh, and the back of his head hitting the back of his seat when I get my mouth around his prick.

Once we get home I'm wiping the remains of slobber and cum from my lips and he's struggling to keep his legs from collapsing.

"Are you okay?" I ask him smugly when his leg shakes a little bit as he unlocks the front door.

"Watch it, Sixx." He warns as he points at me, his hand popping me on the ass when I walk in front of him to go inside, and I let out a small shriek, following it with a laugh.

My laughter abruptly stops when I see Vanity watching T.V.

She actually seems sober enough, but she looks like she just came off of a bender.

Nikki and I look at each other.

"Oh, there you are. Nikki wasn't answering the phone and I wanted to see him." She tells us, her eyes glued him, and he sighs.

"Well, I'm here. What do you want?" He asks her in a snap, taking his jacket off.

"Nikki, quit being rude." I tell him quietly.

"Showing up to people's houses uninvited is rude." He replies, glaring at her.

"Not when I gave her the code to the gate and a key." I state.

His eyes bug for a second and he's raising his brows at me.

"You what?"

"Tansy has the code and a key, Tommy, Vince and Mick have the code and a key. Izzy, Steven, Slash, Duff, Axl--"

"--That's different." He cuts me short.

"How? They're our friends and so is she." I point out.

"If I'm not welcome I can just go." She says, grabbing her coat.

"Bye." Nikki says just as I say, "no, it's okay."

He and I give each other dirty looks.

"I was actually about to start cooking dinner and invite some friends over so feel free to stay, please." I offer to her. "Nikki, I need your help in the kitchen."

He follows me and I yank on the ends of his hair once we're alone, scolding him.

"Will you stop being a jackass to her?!" I whisper-yell.

"Can you stop being so fucking nice to people? It's stupid."

"Oh, God forbid Nikki Sixx be married to someone who's not a complete bitch." I roll my eyes, grabbing a few pans from our cabinet and he let's out a heavy breath.

"She's fucking crazy, Vivian." He argues and I turn to face him.

"You say the same thing about me any time I piss you off. I really believe she's a good girl, Nikki. She just needs one, good, solid friend that isn't just friends with her to have someone to do drugs with." I explain.

"Oh, yeah, Viv, she's really good...at being a fucking slut."

I pop him in the side of the face and point my finger at him.

"You don't talk like that about Vince or Tommy or Robbin so why the hell talk like that about her?"

"Because she is one." He ignores me and I let out a breath. "Some of the dudes she's fucked are married." He adds.

"Tansy has slept with married men, is she a slut, too?" I ask him and he rolls his jaw. "What I thought."

"Viv, I really don't--"

"Okay, Nikki. Whatever you say." I interrupt him, grabbing some things from the fridge. "She's an awful person, got it. Can you please help me with this so I can clean up the house some?" I ask.

He hesitates for a second before opening the packet of chicken on the counter I pulled from the fridge.

"Thank you." I smile, kissing his cheek, before leaving him alone so I can get the house in nice shape.

To say Nikki projected shit onto Vanity would be an understatement. Her hands weren't clean, of course, but he would often externally put her down the way he internally put himself down for what the two of them were doing to me. It was moments like that, that I looked back on after finding everything out, and would want to hit myself.

He practically told me they were sleeping together without actually saying "hey, I'm screwing this woman that you think is your friend, and you're being too nice and naive to think we wouldn't do that to you."

"Tommy and Heather, Vince and Sharise, Tansy and Vanity, Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl." I tell Mick how many people will be at dinner and I hear him let out a breath on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know, Viv." He tells me.

"Mick, c'mon, I haven't seen you very much the past year."

"I don't know..."

"Mick--"

"--Mick, get your ass over here so we can have a good time. We're gonna see you in the studio tomorrow, anyway, so just come celebrate the commencement of the start of the new album." Nikki says after he takes the phone from me.

Mick says something and Nikki grins.

"Alright, bye." He hangs up. "He's in." He tells me.

"Thank you for snatching the phone from me, dickhead." I say, half-joking.

"Okay, I am this close," he holds his pointer finger and thumb centimeters apart from each other. "to bending you over my knee and beating your ass."

"Promise?" I reply, grinning, and he tugs me closer to him, but just before our lips meet, Vanity is walking--more so bursting--into the kitchen.

"Nikki, when are we hanging out?" She asks him, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nikki's hands dig into my hips as if he's channeling his frustration instead of being rude.

I know what "hangout" means, and I don't need him cracked out, especially not now with guests coming over soon.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vanity." I explain to her as politely as I can.

"Why not?" She asks me.

"Just not aright now." Nikki tells her, actually more tolerant than he was earlier.

I don't know if I'm shocked because he's not being an ass to her, or because he's  turning down the opportunity to go hit a crackpipe. 

Vanity looks at me for a split second--a very short, nearly millisecond--as if I'm the fucking Devil, before it vanishes and she smiles at us.

"Okay, I'm gonna be in the bathroom freshening up." She tells us, walking in the direction of the guest bathroom, and I let out a breath when she's gone.

"You mean you don't wanna greet our guests naked, waving a gun, and accuse them of being the FBI before opening fire?" I ask him.

He just gives me an unamused look.

"I'm gonna go change before that 'ass beating' is administered." I suggest.

"Yeah, good idea."

I change, put on some makeup, and run my fingers through my hair to comb it out before stepping into the kitchen to help Nikki finish up.

I'm met with uncooked food.

"Uh...Nikki?!" I call, glancing at the clock to see it's 8:00pm.

People will be here any minute.

I go looking for him, smelling the familiarity of cocaine.

"Oh my God." I say to myself, opening the guest bedroom to see Nikki and Vanity crouched over their pipes with a mountain of blow out.

They look at me with wild eyes.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

"Please be someone sober. Please be someone sober." I repeat, shutting the door as I step to the door.

I open it to reveal Duff and the guys.

"I need help." I tell them, sounding panicked. "Nikki and Vanity's cracked out."

"Um, w-we were gonna ask you for help." Duff tells me.

"What, why?"

They move over and I see Tansy, shaking a little.

"Are you--"

Before I can finish, a familiar "BANG" is sounding through the house and is joined with a loud, ear-shattering shriek of glass breaking, and we hit the ground, Duff securing me under him before a second shot is fired, breaking more glass, causing Tansy to start screaming and crying from under Axl and Steven.

I thank God when Nikki doesn't shoot again, instead the sound of him scrambling to get to his closet, and the sound of Vanity's heels scampering along with him has me sighing with relief. I hear him slam our bedroom door, and Duff runs his thumbs under my eyes to wipe at tears that I had no idea were even coming out of me.

"Holy shit." Izzy mumbles. 

"Are you okay?" Duff asks me and I nod as he helps me up.

"Tansy?" I ask her gently, she's got her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.

Axl carefully steps into the house as I continue to reassure Tansy.

"Uh, Viv?" Axl asks.

"I got it, Viv." Steven tells me, trying to calm Tansy down.

I follow Axl into the house, and I'm taken back by the sight of our entire ceiling in the living room shattered over our couches, the carpet, the coffee table, the T.V., it's a giant sheet of sparkling, sharp, shards of mirror.

It seems like forever just staring at the damage done to my house, and I'm unable to get words to come out of my mouth.

"Dude, is Tansy alright?" Tommy's voice sounds at the door and we snap around to see him.

I hear Heather and Sharise outside before Vince comes in behind Tommy, their brows raising at the sight of the mess.

"Hooollllyyyy..." the blonde singer drags out.

"You alright?" Axl asks me, and anger rolls through me, my teeth grinding together.

"Viv?" Tommy adds.

"Doc. Bob. Now." Is all I'm able to say.

"On it." Tommy doesn't waste a minute stepping through the glass to get to the phone in the living room while Axl tugs me back outside to avoid murdering Nikki.

That was the first straw that began the process of breaking the camel's back.

[shespsychedelic]

So this may sound ridiculous, but I'm serious. I am the goodiest of goody two shoes and the odds of me ever getting high are very slim. Could I coax you into describing your recent experiences in as many details as you can manage? Preemptive thanks, hope you're having fun and being safe.

So I’m going to put this under a cut in case people don’t want to read about this. I’m also going to just describe what everything I’ve ever taken feels like, but tbh I haven’t done that many drugs. Anyway, here you go. 

Weed: I love doing weed and being high on it tbh. Different strains affect you differently, but overall I notice that my head gets kind of floaty, and I space out. Some people get really deep when they get high, and they think about the world and things happening in it, but I just zone out and think about nothing lol. If I’m outside I tend to just look at trees or grass or the sky and take in the colors. If people try to have a conversation with me I don’t really pay attention, and I just nod along in agreement with whatever they’re saying. I definitely get the munchies on weed, so I like to get high either before I eat, or if I have a lot of snacks lol.

Coke: this one was weird the one time I did it, but I was also doing it in the bathroom of a club basement, so I was slightly paranoid that security would kick me out, and I didn’t enjoy the high as much. I only did a little bit at a time so I would get super energetic for a few minutes, and then I would comedown and have to do more. It’s nice if you’re at an event you want to get through quickly, but I generally didn’t enjoy it.

Absinthe: I’m including this one because it’s still illegal even though they don’t tend to use actual wormwood anymore. When I did Absinthe I actually had a horrible case of strep throat, and I wound up doing 3 shots of just straight Absinthe (it tastes like black licorice btw) and I woke up the next morning completely better because the alcohol killed the bacteria lmaooo. As for the high, it was quite possibly the weirdest thing that’s ever happened because all night i felt like I was drunk, but also not really? If that makes any sense?? Like I was acting like I do when I was drunk, but the blurry feeling I normally get when I’m drinking wasn’t there. I didn’t see the green fairy or hallucinate, but the colors were a little bit more vivid. 

MDMA (Molly/Mandy): this is by far one of my favorites lol. This is the pure form of what they cut to make ecstasy, so the entire time you’re on it you feel nothing but love. every time I’ve done this I’ve been so in love with everything that’s happening around me, and I feel like such a hippie with the things that come out of my mouth sjdhbv. Like once I was at a festival and my friend and I were on it, and we kept asking each other where our souls were and where they wanted to be. I kept saying my soul weas near the ocean or a river because I was thirstyyyy, which is the worst thing about MD. You get super thirsty, but you can’t drink a lot because your kidneys temporarily shut down, and can’t process water, so you have to be super careful with how much water you intake. Overall, I’ve always had a great experience with MD (except for the time I took too much and got paranoid that I’d be arrested...I didn’t but i was convinced I was lmao). I also tend to makeout with my friends when I’m on MD, but it’s never a big deal lmao, everyone’s high and suddenly the expression “free love” makes a lot of fucking sense.

Ket: this one I will never do again, not because i had a bad trip, but because I h a t e the way it made me feel lmao. Ketamine is an anaesthetic, that, when used in a high enough quantity, is used in animal tranquilizers (which is why most people know it as a horse tranq). I did this one at 4 in the morning and I was only high for probably an hour and a half but it felt like an entire week lmao. I sat on my friend’s bed and swayed back and forth, and everytime I went to move, I felt like I was walking through cold molasses. At one point my friend went to the bathroom to throw up, so my other friend went with her, and I didn’t know where they’d gone, so I stumbled out of the door to find them, and I saw my one friend hunched over the toilet dry heaving, and my other friend lying on the floor, and when he saw me he was like “Ellen come join me!” so I went and laid pretty much on top of him on the bathroom floor while my other friend was being sick, and then when she felt like she wasn’t going to be sick anymore, we got up (so so so slowly because none of us could move out muscles properly), and I swear to god getting us all back to our own bedrooms must’ve been the funniest thing on earth for an outsider to witness because none of us could walk properly shdjbvsz

Shrooms: bro that shit was SO fun. So there are many different types of shrooms, and all of them have a different kind of high they give you, and since it was Jay and I’s first time to do them, the woman at the dispensary gave us the ones that have little to no visual effects, but they make you laugh so much, and boy oh boy did Jay and I laugh our asses off. The high from these lasted about 5-6 hours, and the entire time I just laughed SO hard. We talked about Jay being partially colorblind, and the cones and rods in shrimps eyes, and then I pu tin my earbuds, played on Sunflower vol. 6 about 37 times, and stared at the ceiling occasionally giggling to myself because the beams in the ceiling were swaying to the music and the bulbs on the light fixture were pulsing with the beat, and while the light fixture and ceiling were in all actuality white, I kept seeing pink and blue layered over it, and lemme tell you, listening to Sunflower while watching a light fixture that looks like a bunch of tiny mushrooms dance, while you’re on mushrooms, is hands down one of the happiest experiences of my life. 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Three

Table of Content or Part Forty-Two

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Words: 3.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, Verbal abuse, Sexual situations

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My head is aching from the pressure put on it after crying for hours on end, balls of tissue shrouding the bed around me.

My mind floods with how I'm going to propose attempting to do one of the two things Nikki despises most, not wanting to ask him about it from the jump, but wanting to fix whatever it is that's lacking in our marriage that has me feeling something for someone who I'm not married to.

I know what's lacking, but I'd rather he  hear it from a professional so he can't accuse me of just throwing out bullshit.

Nikki's been home for a few hours now, but he's been avoiding me.

I wonder if he's mad at me for leaving during the tour, or if he hasn't even thought about me and came home, shot up and passed out.

I'm sick with myself, the approach of Nikki's homecoming causing an onslaught of self-chastisement that occurs in the form of random tidbits of Duff and I in my dream, and the possibility that I'm subconsciously getting ready to give up on my marriage, which is the last thing I want to do.

I hear the front door open and shut, along with the sound of Nikki's footsteps growing closer and closer to our bedroom, the rustling of paper bags accompanying him.

I haven't even realized he left the house.

Nerves ball up in my stomach, my hands get sweaty and my breathing starts getting deep.

"Keep your head clear" I hear Andy's voice in my mind and I calm myself down.

The door opens, and the smell of food wafts in the air.

Nikki's carrying fastfood bags, seemingly decently sober.

I sit up, sniffling, and he hands me my drink and a straw before pulling a cheeseburger out of the paper bag, handing it over to me as well as my fries.

"Do you feel any better?" He asks me, calmly, and I furrow my brows a little. "I knew something was up when you weren't waiting by the door. I came in and you were passed out." He explains, his hand pressing to my forehead. "You don't feel like you're running fever."

"I'm not. I just feel like shit." I mumble, taking a sip of my Pepsi.

"I got this while I was out." He adds, opening another paper bag from our pharmacy and I rub my lips together. "The bottle was on the bathroom counter and saw you haven't gotten a refill yet, so..." He shrugs, handing me a pill of my Nardil.

"Thanks." I say, swallowing it down.

He gets his food and knocks my balled up tissues out of the way as he gets into bed next to me.

"What all did you do?" He asks and I look at him, tensing up.

"What?"

"While you've been here? And I've been gone? What all have you done?" He repeats.

"Oh, just went out a few times with the guys. I stayed at home, mostly." I reply.

"I can tell. This place is spotless." He chuckles, eating a few fries.

"Sharise and Skylar stayed with me at night so I wouldn't be by myself." I add and he shakes his head a little.

"We gotta get you outta that, babe." He states and I raise my brows a little in confusion. "Your 'I can't be alone' mentality."

"What about it?"

"It's not really healthy to be that way, don't you think?"

"I think it's normal. Humans weren't made to be by themselves."

"Viv, not being able to be alone is one thing. Not being able to sleep alone is another." He scoffs.

"Vince doesn't ever sleep alone." I point out.

"That's because Vince fucks and then falls asleep with chicks who aren't his wife." Nikki points out.

"Well, I've fallen asleep with dudes who aren't you." I add.

"Robbin, Steven and Vince don't really count." He tells me. "Well, Vince counts a little, but that's because he's a fucking dick."

"Okay, so, who all counts?" I ask him, trying to keep the light tone in my voice.

His answer is blatantly but casually said as if it's common sense, and further causes me to curl into my shell, even more petrified to suggest what I've been planning to suggest to him:

"Anyone you can see yourself fucking." He says.

My body tenses and my appetite is at a loss.

I don't say much of anything else, listening to him go from the topic of the new album, to Tommy's upcoming wedding, and finally, his fuck up.

"Look, Viv," He starts, throwing the wrapper of his finished burger, aside, and I start putting the trash in the empty bags the food came in before setting them on the night stand on my side of the bed before laying back down, facing him. "I know what I did was--"

"--You made a mistake." I cut him short. "And you're still here, so...it's okay."

"No, it's not okay." He argues and I rub my lips together.

"I don't know what else to say about it, Nikki." I reply and he sighs, getting a little frustrated.

"I want you to care, Vivian." He shoots back and I roll on my back, staring up at my reflection on the ceiling, rubbing my forehead to calm the subtle aching beginning to resurface.

"I do care, Nikki, I just don't understand what you want me to do about it. You're the only one who can fix it and you freak out anytime someone mentions you getting help."

"Jesus fuck." He grumbles, kicking his cowboy boot-clad foot into the mattress a little and I sigh out, agitated, as he's about to get up and probably leave.

"Can you just not run off at the slightest argument we have, for once, Nikki?" I beg, my voice cracking as my throat grows thick with tears. "I've had a horrible past couple weeks and I just need you to hold me because you're my husband and that's..." I can't finish, a wave of obnoxious sobs coming out of nowhere.

"Vivian, what is wrong? Huh?" He asks me, genuinely, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me as I lay against his chest.

It's obvious this goes beyond "I don't feel good."

People don't cry uncontrollably when they have a cold.

"I'm just going through something right now." I reply in between uneven breaths.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

I wish I could tell him everything. Every miscarriage, every repressed fear of our future...having mental sex with Duff.

I know the Duff situation shouldn't be a big deal to me, but it is. A very big deal. A very red flag. A very tiny issue that cam and will manifest if not dealt with accordingly.

Dread of the conversation of seeing a marriage counselor with Nikki sneaks into me, adding to my plate of shit I have yet to disclose to him.

"I don't know." I lie to him. "I guess I just really miss you."

"I'm right here, Viv." He chuckles a little.

I want to say, "the old Nikki", but decide against an entirely different argument, before relaxing a little as he runs his fingertips in random patterns at the bottom of my back, and falling asleep.

The thing that pissed Nikki off about my crying spells, which occurred more often the worse his use got, was that he felt emasculated by it.

He couldn't make me feel better because he couldn't get off drugs, and I couldn't even tell him about the weight on my heart from my misfortune with pregnancy and my growing confusion about my feelings for another man.

He knew he was failing me by having an affair, staying on drugs, disregarding our vows, causing me pain, which made him do more drugs to numb the pain of that knowledge, which made him act out even more.

And all I could do was scream at him, cry, flush his stash, vandalize our house, vandalize his cars and bikes, and screw the support's bassist.

But before we resulted to that...

I let out one more muffled moan as he grabs at a fist full of my hair, delivering one more thrust into me before he's finishing on my bare ass and tucking himself back in his pants.

"Nikki, I thought you said we would talk when you got back home." I lowly remind him as I clean myself off, hearing our friends in our living room.

He takes a drink of his Jack on the  bathroom counter and shrugs.

"We can talk later, babe." He tells me, for the hundredth time since he's been back home two weeks, now, and I rub my lips together.

"Well, Nikki, we kinda need to talk about as soon as we can." I pull my pants and shirt back on.

"And we will. Just chill out."

"Okay, well, we should've talked about it over a week ago if that were the case. And I've been chilling out but I'm starting to get the idea that you don't care."

"If I didn't care what you had to say, I'd tape your pretty little mouth shut, Viv." He drunkenly spurs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I raise a brow. "Don't look at me like that, babe, I--Okay, look. Your buddies are here." He laughs me off, motioning to door, reminding me  Slash, Izzy, Duff, Steven, and even Axl are over here--although I'm sure Axl's only here for the 5'3" platinum blonde playmate that I can hear going back and forth with Steven about how to properly play cards. "Tommy and Vince are coming over, Vince is bringing Sharise and you, her, and Tansy are like the trifecta or something so you can have girl time and catch up. It's gonna be a good time. We'll talk after, alright?" He assures me and I let out a breath.

"Alright." I mumble.

He smirks, giving me a sloppy kiss before I'm heading out to see everybody.

I roll my eyes and head to the kitchen, preparing myself to face Duff, who I haven't seen in three weeks.

We hung out once after I stayed at their place, and that's been it.

I step into the kitchen to see someone in our fridge, grabbing a beer, and when the door shuts I'm face to face with all six feet and four inches of McKagan.

"There you are." He chuckles out, opening the bottle with an opener on his keys and I try to catch my breath and not show signs of panic. "Thought you'd, like, died or something." He adds.

"Oh, no, I just didn't feel good." I explain.

"Yeah, Nikki told me." He replies, taking a sip of his beer. "Do you feel better now?" He asks me and I nod, although it's certain I'm not 'okay' necessarily. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I lie, smiling a little.

It was bullshit, he knew it was bullshit.

"Alright." He doesn't ask again, instead stepping to the kitchen door, purposely shoving at me with his shoulder, nearly knocking me down.

I fire back, shoving at him with mine, and we continue until we're laughing, racing to the living room.

There's an exposed seat beside Tansy and we both eye it before rambunctiously trying to see who gets there first.

We get there simultaneously, sitting down, scrunched into each other as we fight for our footing, more so assing, as we both make an effort to worm the other person off of the couch cushion.

"Move giraffe neck!" I demand in a laugh, struggling to get him out of the way.

"Not a chance, mother mary!" He replies in the same tone, managing to keep his beer from spilling.

He wins, eventually, getting me out of the way.

I'm about to give him a light hearted earful when he's pulling me into his lap.

I make sure to keep my ass on his knees, nowhere near his crotch, and he's not thinking anything of it, obviously, until Axl hears Nikki coming out of our bedroom, and I'm too busy laughing to notice.

Axl's black boot is kicking out and shoving me to the floor before Nikki can see me on Duff, and Duff and I look at the red head, about to go off on him, until we realize what he did.

Nikki's obviously just shot up, wiping the dribble of vomit from his chin with the back of his hand as his eyes play their tricks.

I'm assuming it was a speedball.

I know damn well we aren't having that talk tonight...or ever, possibly.

Never will be a good time.

The doorbell rings, and I'm eager to jump up and see who it is, to avoid going off on Nikki, crossing my fingers that it's hopefully Vince, Sharise, and Tommy.

I open the door, my eyes immediately going to Skylar's round, chubby little face as she wears a baby pink, velvet headband with a giant matching velvet flower attached to it, and a long sleeved, white onesie with baby pink socks on her little feet.

"Hey, guys." I say, stepping aside to let them in.

"'Sup, Viv." Tommy grins out widely, patting my head. His energetic mood is a deep contrast of Vince's.

"Hey." Sharise gives me a side hug and I let Skylar wrap her hand around my finger, looking at me with wide eyes and eye brows that clearly show the expression that she knows me but also doesn't know me.

"Hey, Viv." Vince flatly greets me, giving me a peck on the cheek, irritated, and I can see Sharise is in the same mood.

Great. Another couple that's wanting to kill each other. Nikki and I are in good company.

"Hey, Vince." I reply as he follows Tommy.

Skylar is kicking her feet, smiling and waving her hands, now, and Sharise hands her over to me.

"Hey, pretty girl." I greet her as me and her mom go to the living room with everyone...just in time to see Steven ripping a bong. "Baby!" I call, and all their attention shifts to the kid in my arms and they all groan a little.

Rule of "Baby": no drinking from bottles, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, being gross with groupies, dropping f-bombs, or being a jackass when a child is around...even if the child isn't even one year yet.

It came after Skylar let out a loud and proud "Fuh!" a month prior, and at first we thought it was a random noise she was making while babbling, until she repeated the word over time until it was  pretty obvious she was practicing her pronunciation of the word "fuck," which she had heard from every person in that room.

After that, anytime someone called "baby" the cigarettes were put out, the drugs were put up, the groupies were put on behavioral probation, the alcohol was put into solo cups and the bottles were hidden, and everyone's favorite word was forbidden.

Of course they could go to another room and do anything they wanted, just not with a child in sight.

And they could complain all they wanted, but I think they liked the thought of kids being the only people able to make them clean up their act, even temporarily.

Steven puts his bong away, Duff gathers the liquor bottles and heads to the kitchen to pour it into solo cups, Slash puts out his cigarette and Nikki...

"It's fucking stupid. She's not gonna remember anything of it." Nikki snaps out a couple minutes later as Duff attempts to hand him a cup of Jack, but he refuses, motioning to Skylar once Sharise, Tansy, Steven and I are in the floor with her, and I roll my eyes.

"Babe, it's just for a few minutes. She's gonna go to sleep eventually." I tell him calmly.

"Yeah, Nikki, she usually goes to bed about an hour from now." Sharise adds.

"Sharise, it's his house." Vince takes up for Nikki. "He doesn't come over to our house and dictate what we do and don't do." 

"They can still do it, just not around our daughter." Sharise tells him.

"Exactly. There's plenty of other rooms in the house and an entire back yard." I add.

"Why bring your baby to a fucking get together like this, anyway?" Nikki asks her rudely. "You guys don't have a nanny or something?"

"Nikki." I scold him, giving him a "shut up" look.

He ignores me.

"I-I don't want a nanny raising my daughter, Nikki." Sharise states, trying to keep her cool.

"Well, then why didn't you just stay home?" He continues to come after her.

"Dude." Izzy mumbles behind us, obviously getting fed up, and I pray he doesn't say anything to Nikki or Vince to fuel the fire.

Izzy wasn't into ego, and Nikki and Vince had plenty of it...well, Vince and Sikki.

"Because I wanted to see her." I reply before Sharise can. "And the baby."

"Of course you did because stick-in-the mud Sober Sixx really knows how to keep the party going: a fucking baby." Nikki scoffs, cutting his eyes at me.

"I'd rather be known as a stick-in-the-mud than known for sticking myself at 45° angles." I snap harshly.

Everyone winces a little, and Nikki grinds his teeth together.

"What the hell is your fucking problem?!" Nikki barks at me.

"Oh, I am so glad you asked, I've only been trying to talk to you about for the past two and a half weeks!" I snap.

"Well it's not my problem I've got more important things to do than listen to you whine about our fucking relationship! You've only been doing for nearly two years now, but then you never really tell me what the fuck is wrong, so I'm kinda fucking numb to it by now!"

"I wouldn't expect you not to be numb to it, Nikki! I would be, too, if my nerves were as shot as every last cc of junk I blew my freaking money on!"

"Maybe we should go outside for a little bit--"

"--Sit down!" Nikki and I both yell at Steven before he can stand up, causing everyone else to awkwardly settle back into their seats, because they were getting ready to follow him out.

"Okay." He calmly mumbles, reaching for his cup of booze before he starts chugging.

In fact, I'm noticing them all taking more and more long sips of their drinks.

They're probably going to have grey hairs from stress after leaving tonight.

"See, look, you're turning my friends into alcoholics with your bullshit!" I accuse Nikki and he let's out a loud "HA!"

"Okay, so they're just your friends, now?!" He let's out.

By this point Skylar starts getting fussy with our screaming and Sharise attempts to calm her down.

I'm about to ask her to politely go take Skylar outside or to a different part of the house, even though by the looks of it, she's getting ready to do so anyway.

"Can you shut your God damn baby up, Sharise?!" Nikki's going after her again.

Now it seems either Izzy, Axl or Duff is about to say something, until I intervene to save them a fist fight with someone who can help their careers...not that they would even want his help anymore.

"Can you shut your God damn mouth up, Nikki?!" I stand up, ready to punch him, again, and he stands, too.

"Alright, guys--" Tommy starts but is quickly shut up with a glare from Nikki.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Viv, this is why I'm on smack! So I can get a fucking escape from being trapped in a house with you!"

"For someone who's so miserable being married to me, you sure as hell were adamant about doing so!"

"Until I realized I married a fucking psychopath!" He throws at me, pointing his finger my way.

"And I married a junkie!" I shoot back. "And all you're ever gonna be is a freaking junkie and all you're ever gonna do is junk and party and convince yourself you don't need help when you clearly do! You don't give a fuck about me or our marriage and thank fucking God we don't have kids because you'd probably sell one of them for more smack when we run out of money after your career goes down in flames when you stop giving a single fuck about music, which will probably happen in the next year since you're already writing shitty songs!" I can't stop what's coming out of my mouth, seeing him being hurt by it, disguising it as angry tears when I know I struck a chord of an entirely new emotion in him.

He was already beginning to get discouraged with his new music he was working up for the band's next album, but what I said just validated his lack of confidence.

"I'm not just gonna do junk." He calms down, which let's me know he's officially at his pique. "I'm gonna file for divorce, pack up all your shit, and have it in the yard by tomorrow night, and I'm finally gonna tell you how much I hate being married to you." He tells me and I nod like he's being serious.

"You're such a fucking--" Duff starts but I interrupt him. 

I don't even think Nikki notices.

"No, you're gonna go feel sorry for yourself, lock yourself in the closet, shoot up, wake up, feel like a fucking prick--because you are one--then you're gonna ignore me for a few days even though you know I'm right, then we're gonna go to Tommy and Heather's wedding, and the day after, I'm calling Doc and Bob Timmons, we will be attending therapy for our marriage and you will be dragged to rehab kicking and screaming."

And thus the battle between Sikki Nixx and Rabid Bitch Vivian began with no inkling it would become a full-blown war.